Lit Major Shoots Zombies
by Space Viking
Summary: In the anticipated sequel to "Lit Major Shoots Lightning," American exchange student Christen "Chris" Warden continues her adventures in the Secret World. After a one-week crash course in mastering her new powers, she's sent to discover what evil has overtaken Kingsmouth, a New England town that suddenly dropped off the map.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Prologue**_

_Previously, in "Lit Major Shoots Lightning"..._

* * *

My name is Christen Warden, but I prefer "Chris."

I'm an American English literature major from a small community college in Colorado, studying abroad for a semester in London—or I _was_ until a couple weeks ago. It sounds crazy when I say it, but I swallowed a bee one night and began manifesting supernatural powers. These weren't bee-themed powers like in comic books; these were destructive powers like fire, wind, and lightning. I never wanted them and I didn't know how to control them at all. I destroyed my apartment, scared off my roommate and her boyfriend, and pretty much ruined my life all within the course of a week.

That was when I found the Templars, or rather, they found me. They weren't the Knights Templar from history: these Templars were a modern-day secret organization dedicated to hunting monsters the rest of us only meet in nightmares, if even there. The Templars knew about my "bee problem" and they weren't afraid. They invited me to their headquarters in Ealdwic, a secret part of London, and they offered me a deal: join their crusade against monsters and evil, and they would teach me how to use and control my powers safely. I accepted.

They taught me how to channel my magic, my _anima_, using empty guns, firing magic instead of bullets. I'm still getting used to the fact that my shots can do things normal gunshots can't—like going exactly where I want them, exploding inside things, and giving me the ability to leach health off of targets—but I'm in control of my powers. For the first time since I got them, I'm not a danger to myself or others…unless I mean to be. I can be plenty dangerous then.

The Templars even provided me with a place to stay, new clothes and replacements for some of the things I'd lost. They even gave me a specialized cell phone to let me talk to my family without being traced by the Illuminati—who are apparently well-established in America and a pretty raunchy crowd. They gave me permission to confide in my conspiracy-theory-enthusiast little brother, Micah, and I have. They've more than upheld their end of the bargain.

Now it's time for me to uphold mine…

* * *

**Author's Note:** The second story of the _Lit Major_ series is finally here!

This is just a quick reminder of the events of _Lit Major Shoots Lightning_, since it's been a while. This story's beginning is set immediately after the close of the last one.


	2. Assignment

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

**_Assignment_**

_Wednesday, November 1, 3:14PM  
Temple Hall, Ealdwic, London_

* * *

"Come in and sit down," Richard Sonnac directs, guiding me into his richly-furnished office and closing the door behind us. I pick out my favorite chair, a slightly overstuffed leather one, while he sits down across from me behind the desk and fold his hands. "The time has come to discuss the details of your upcoming excursion to the Colonies, or at least, what details we know." He gives a slight frown and his expression turns serious. "I know you're concerned for your family and would probably like to see them again, but we have no indication that they are in danger, and we have more pressing matters to attend to. I'm afraid I must insist that this trip be strictly business, not pleasure."

"I understand, sir," I say automatically.

That brings a slight smile. "Please, Chris, Sonnac will do. I know the Brigadier likes to keep things formal in training, but I prefer a more personable style of communication."

I smile back at him. "Of course," I say, managing to leave off the _sir_, but only just. Then the conversation turns to more serious matters as both our smiles fade. "You said before that you're sending me to the New England coast? To an island?"

"Solomon Island." He nods soberly. "Recently, a small island community off the New England coast dropped off the map. The official story was a storm at first, and now it's a training exercise by the US Department of Defense…but you can disregard all the tiresome government cover-ups. There are dark forces at play."

"What kind of dark forces?" I ask, hoping it'll be an answer less frightening than the Rakshasa chained in the training room or the Filth-tainted zombies from the weird dream I had.

"If we knew that, we wouldn't have to send you," says Sonnac. "It could be any number of things. The list is far too extensive to prepare you for all the possibilities, and with the way strange events have been accelerating across the globe…well, it could be anything."

I swallow and nod, reminding myself that I spent the last week in intensive training for just this. "What do we know about the island?"

"A good deal, but none of it very helpful," says Sonnac, rising and beginning to pace. "The major town is Kingsmouth, population just under two thousand. Major industries are fishing, mining, and tourism. They have a website, if that helps, but it probably won't."

"I'll have Micah look it up," I say.

He nods. "That is all we know about the Island's present, or what _was_ its present up until three days ago. What we know about their past is far more concerning." He turns toward me. "Solomon Island is a rock with infamy. In centuries of yore, it was trafficked by the Illuminati, before they joined the rush to New York. As you're aware we have…history with the Illuminati, acrimonious history. Of course, under the flag of truce we have spat and made up, and now we are the closest of enemies: all smiles above the table, and drawn knives beneath it."

"Sounds like going into Solomon Island will be like kicking over a hornet's nest, then," I say, frowning. "Will we risk war if we go there?"

"In force, with as little knowledge and justification as we have right now? We might," he says. "But we cannot stand idly by. The Illuminati are reckless and cannot be relied upon to clean up their own messes. We must find the root of whatever doom has come to Solomon Island. That is your assignment."

"A scouting mission?" I say. I think I can handle that. I don't feel well enough trained to join the Templar guards, but poking around on an island I could probably handle.

"Exactly," says Sonnac. "You are strictly to observe and report. Do not engage the Illuminati, and do not try to be a hero." He looks me in the eye. "Let me stress: this is not a rescue operation. You are not the army of the Templars, and even if you were, our goal is the salvation of _all_ mankind, not on a case-by-case basis."

I straighten a little in my chair. "Mankind is made up of individuals though: it's a case-by-case basis or nothing," I say.

"Not when you're gambling with the entire population of the world—and with disasters the scale of the Tokyo Incident, we may well be," Sonnac says. "You go to the island. You observe and report back to us. There may be survivors—godwilling there are—, and you can help them as you carry out your mission, but understand that you are not to announce to anyone that you've been chosen to deliver them from evil. Joan of Arc did, and look where that got her."

I open my mouth to point out that this isn't quite what happened to Joan of Arc, then it occurs to me that I heard of her before I learned about the existence of the Templars and the Secret World, and that there's a real possibility that I didn't hear the truth about her at all. I close my mouth again and nod.

"I understand that all this may stick in your throat, but…well, halos are fading all over town now that so much more is at stake," Sonnac finishes, returning to his own side of the mahogany desk.

"Hmph, halos indeed," says a deep voice behind me.

I jump out of my chair, startled to find Brigadier Lethe, my trainer, standing in the doorway. For a large man with a brace on one leg, he can move surprisingly silently.

He gives up all pretense of stealth now, though and marches into the room, holding an AK-47 with a grenade launcher under the barrel in his massive hands. For a moment, the scowl on his face and the weapon in his hands make me fear the worst and I instinctively reach for my concealed holster inside my jacket—only to realize that of course it isn't there and neither is my handgun. State-issued concealed-carry permits aren't internationally recognized, after all.

If the Brigadier sees my reaction, he ignores it. A moment later, he defuses my fears anyway. He pulls back the bolt on the rifle and removes the magazine, revealing that both it and the chamber are empty, then he thrusts the gun into my hands. "Like I told you, girl, when you're done with your training, you get to keep it." He slams a second empty magazine down on the desk hard enough to scratch the mahogany. Sonnac winces and the Brigadier glares at him.

"One bloody week," the Brigadier says to Sonnac. "Christ Almighty, you didn't even give me _that_! I'm not a bloody miracle worker, Sonnac. You send her out there with this little training and her blood is on your hands!"

"I believe Miss Warden has demonstrated she is quite capable of taking care of herself, Mr. Lethe," Sonnac replies with a calm I wish I could feel. "We have few alternatives, and she _is_ a Bee, so—"

"That doesn't make her bloody invincible!" Lethe interrupts. "She's not an immortal."

"What does this have to do with how I got my powers?" I ask, stepping cautiously toward the men.

Sonnac turns to me. "I'm sure you've heard the term from your brother by now. It's not very difficult to look up. The means by which you obtained your powers makes you part of a group of gifted individuals with certain common traits, known informally as _Bees_." He glances at Brigadier Lethe, who is still glaring at him. "One of those traits is that when your body is physically exhausted, to the point when an ordinary human would die, you are carried away in _anima_ form to one of the numerous intersections of ley lines around the globe which form springs of magical energy—_anima_ wells if you will. There your body can be healed and restored, effectively resurrected without any permanent harm. I'm told some Bees even use it as a speedy mode of transit, though I cannot condone such a practice."

"So I can't die?" I ask, trying to take it all in.

"Not quite so," Sonnac corrects. "As the Brigadier pointed out, you are not immortal, nor are you invulnerable. That being said, killing a Bee is a thing not easily done, which is one reason why you are an ideal scout in this situation." He looks back to Lethe. "The other reason being that our manpower and resources have been stretched to their limits and beyond. Quite simply, we have no one else to spare."

"Then for Christ's sake wait for another agent to be available," Lethe says. His mask of anger slips for a moment and I see something else…concern, sorrow. I don't know whether to be shocked or touched.

"We cannot wait, Lethe," says Sonnac. "The mission will not wait. Right now two thousand people are missing, possibly dead, and for all we know they could be the first of millions or even billions of lives lost to whatever darkness has swallowed this island. We cannot wait. The world cannot afford the delay."

"I'll go," I say. "An order's an order, and it's important work. I know the risks, and I'll face them myself."

Lethe shakes his head. "You don't know the risks, girl. You don't know anything about the world out there." He turns then and stalks toward the door, muttering, "Pray you never do, girl, pray you never do." Then he slams the door behind him and is gone.

Sonnac turns to me. "I'm sorry you had to witness that," he says. "The Brigadier is very protective of his recruits, and with good reason. Ours is a dangerous world."

"I'm prepared to face the danger," I say. After all, I joined the Templars not only to be able to tame my powers but to be able to put them to a good use. Saving a small town of 2,000 people, or at the least finding out what happened to them, seems like a good start.

"As much as I commend your enthusiasm, Lethe is right. You are not quite ready, but you can be made ready enough in a short time." He steps around the desk and removes a decorative wooden box from it. He hands it to me. "For you, Chris, to help you in your first mission."

I carefully set down the assault rifle and open the box to find two small semi-automatic pistols inside, along with shoulder holsters for each of them and a fitted white shirt. I recognize the make of the guns immediately. "These are my guns!" I exclaim. "XD-S .45's!" They're the same kind my father got me for concealed carry—not a fun shooting gun, but one I can keep concealed on my person easily enough and hopefully use to save my life in a pinch.

"I took the liberty of reviewing your information and procuring these for you: including shoulder holsters for carrying under a coat or jacket, and an undershirt with built-in holster pockets for more active occasions," Sonnac explained. "I thought you could use a more discrete alternative to toting around a large weapon that screams _I am armed and dangerous_ to anyone who happens by. Lethe told me your pistol work was very impressive."

I frown. "He also said I'd need to learn to shoot two guns at the same time to do anything to a real monster. I still don't think I can do that." I know the inaccuracy of my shots and the recoil I feel is all in my mind, because I'm not firing real bullets and my magic simply does what I tell it to. Still it's hard to convince myself _not_ to expect terrible results if I tried to fire two of these guns at the same time, since I remember my own pocket .45 kicked like a moose.

"You will learn in time," Sonnac assures me. "With practice, your control of your magic grows stronger. Look how far you've come since you began your training here. In the field, you'll grow much faster, and by the time you return to us, you may be able to do things not even we knew were possible." He smiles, then lays his hands on the box, closing it again. "That's not all I'm giving you, though. The box itself is a gift." He turns the key in the front, then opens the box again. Now it's empty.

"A secret compartment?" I ask, amazed. The box had been almost full a moment before, and it's no bigger than a shoe box.

"Nothing so mundane," says Sonnac. "This is an arcane device commonly referred to as a send-box. They come in pairs." He moves to his mantelpiece, where an identical wooden box sits. "And this is its mate. Observe." He opens the lid of the other box. Inside, I catch sight of my pistols and the straps of the shoulder holsters. "Close the lid, turn the key, and whatever was in one box is now in the other." As he speaks, he demonstrates, closing the lid on the other box and turning its key like he did my own.

He then motions for me to open my box and I do…and find the pistols and the rest of my new gear arranged inside as before. "Amazing!" I say.

"It is a time-tested and very practical way for us to send and receive materials from our agents in the field," says Sonnac. "Your phone will be our main point of contact, as it is much more efficient, but samples and material aid can be sent securely by box."

"Thank you," I say, holding the box close.

"That's not all," says Sonnac. He goes behind his desk and opens a small drawer. "You will need these as well." He gestures to the drawer's contents and I come over to watch as he removes the items one by one and explains their purpose.

"This is a spellbook," he says, removing a pocket-sized leather journal from the drawer, carefully handling it with a handkerchief, not touching it directly. "It will bind to the first person who touches it, which should be you."

He hands it to me and I take it cautiously, expecting a shock or something, but I don't feel anything. I flip through the pages and find that all of them are blank. "It's empty," I say.

"Give it a minute to adjust to you, and the first few pages will fill up with descriptions of all the spells you know. New spells will be added as you learn them, and the book can also identify most arcane substances on contact, which is why it is very important to store it in a safe, dry place." He hands me a small ziplock bag and I seal the book inside before tucking it into my jacket pocket.

"The rest of these are various talismans. They are enchanted items that can be used to amplify your _anima_, making you a stronger survivor, healer, or warrior," he explains, gesturing to the other contents of the drawer. "There are head talismans, major talismans, and minor talismans. The distinction is of mostly academic concern, except on one point. Only one head talisman and three of any other kind of talisman may affect a person at any time. These seven items are the normal starting talismans of an agent in the field, but you may find something more suitable in your travels, or we may be able to send you better equipment once we know more about your situation. If you concentrate, you can probably sense their magic."

I squint my eyes and stare at the objects: a cup of ashes, a little diamond ring, a jeweled pendant, a thick brass bracelet, a fragment of bone, a black leather belt, and a small pair of dice. They seem pretty ordinary. I don't even think the jewels are real stones. However, as I concentrate on them, I sense something…power: heard, not seen, buzzing around the objects like the hum of an overhead line…like the drone of a hive of bees.

"Normally, these are given with more decorum," says Sonnac, bringing me back to reality. "However, as our time is short, I will give them to you now." He dips a thumb into the ashes. "I'll need to impose these on your forehead," he says, motioning for me to push back my bangs. I do so and he draws a cross on my forehead with the ashes. I remember hearing that a lot of churches do this for Palm Sunday (though not any church I've ever been to). I never imagined it could have real protective powers, but I can feel the power buzzing through me after he applies them.

Sonnac takes the ring next. "Hold out your right hand," he instructs, and slips the little band around my ring finger. I feel stronger as a result. He places the thick band, the brass bracer, around my left wrist. It looks tacky there, so I cover it up with the sleeve of my black-and-white striped hoodie. Even so, it makes me feel protected. Sonnac goes around behind me and while I hold back my hair he fastens the slim chain of the jeweled pendant around my neck. Again, the feeling of power increases.

By the time he's had me place the dice in my right pocket, the bone in my left, and buckle the black leather belt around my waist, I feel like I'm ready to take on the world. I can't help but grin as the air around me fairly hums with power.

Then, I remember my apartment. I remember the lightning, wind, and fire—the unfathomable power I wielded before my training, and its ruinous results. My grin fades. I almost want to take all the talismans off and give them back to Sonnac, or throw them into the nearest gutter. I do not feel ready for this kind of power. I do not know if I ever will be, but at the same time, I know I will need it—along with all my other gear and training—if I'm to have any chance against whatever strange forces have laid claim to Solomon Island.

Sonnac senses the change in my mood and nods his approval. No words are needed. This is a sobering enterprise. "Your travel arrangements have already been made with the Ealdwic Underground," he tells me. "Leave as soon as you can. More lives are counting on you than you know."

"Yes, sir," I say. I slowly collect my things from my chair, slinging the rifle over my shoulder and tucking the spare magazine (which I suppose is just there for appearances—I don't really need to reload, since I'm firing magic) into the pocket of my jacket. Then I pick up the send box, careful to keep it closed without turning the key. I turn to Sonnac, who has already resumed work at his desk. "How will I get to Solomon Island from the Underground?" I ask. If the Templars have a secret trans-Atlantic subway line, this will be the first I've heard of it.

Sonnac allows himself a small smile. "By something far better and simpler than conventional means," he says mysteriously. "The Conductor will explain everything. Be on your guard out there, and I will be in touch."

I nod, realizing this is the only explanation I'll get out of him. Then I turn and leave, heading back to my flat at the Redcrosse Circus.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The first half of this conversation is based on the cutscene with Sonnac that gives the Templar introduction to Solomon Island. Of course, it's been modified somewhat in order to make it a dialogue, since the player character in TSW is a heroic mute, apparently. The second is my invention. I can imagine Lethe getting angry about having his recruit thrown into the field so quickly, and _someone_ had to point out that this was rather unusual. The talismans are given in the game without any accompanying story: simply appearing in one's inventory inside the Crucible (or applicable training area, depending on your faction). This was my attempt to work them into the story.

The send-box is also my invention, and an explanation for how you can receive rewards for quests. We'll see how it plays out as a plot device. The pistols inside are real guns designed for concealed carry, and while they are very good for what they're designed to do the tiny, light frame and large caliber combine to make them an uncomfortable weapon to fire, in my own experience. They do not appear in the game, but a pair of nameless starter pistols are one of the possible rewards for completing Tier 1 of the "Dawning of an Endless Night" story mission.


	3. Preliminary Research

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

**_Preliminary Research_**

_Wednesday, November 1, 4:35PM  
Redcrosse Circus Apartments, Ealdwic, London_

* * *

As soon as I reach my flat and set everything down on the overcrowded coffee table, I pull out my phone and press speed-dial 1. The phone rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. I hear Dad's recorded voice: "You've reached the home of the Wardens, but we can't answer the phone just now. Please leave a message and—"

I hang up. I glance at my watch, then remember there's a six hour difference between London and Colorado, where my family lives. There it's only 10 o'clock, and my brother is at school and my Dad is at work. I hesitate for a moment, then pull Micah's number up in my contacts and hit "call." The phone rings and to my surprise I immediately get an answer.

"Hey, Chris! Is this important, because I'm about to miss my computer science class," says Micah, sounding winded.

"It is," I say. I hate imposing, but lives are at stake, including my own. "I need you to look up Kingsmouth. It's a town on Solomon Island—"

"Of the coast of Maine, yeah, I know about it," he says. "It's been in the news, quarantined for some sort of flu outbreak, though that's only the latest story."

"I hadn't heard about that," I admit. It wasn't one of the coverups Sonnac mentioned.

"Don't you watch the news?" Micah asks.

"I've been kind of busy," I say. "Training and such."

"Okay, fair enough," he says. "So, what do you need to know? I'll try to look it up after school."

"I need to know everything you can find out. I'm going there now," I say. "There's something more going on. The whole island's dropped off the map and no one knows why, though the Templars suspect Illuminati involvement. They're sending me to investigate."

"They're sending you?" A pause. "Wow, that's sudden."

"Two thousand lives are at stake, possibly more," I point out. "We can't wait around on this one."

"I'll look up the information while I'm in class," Micah says. "I doubt the teacher will notice. I'll call you back next passing period to let you know what I find."

I wish I could tell him not to do this. I don't want my little brother flunking out of school because of me, but too much is at stake for me to refuse his help or give him more time. "Just don't get caught," I say instead.

"Yeah, don't worry about _me_, sis. You take care of yourself!"

"Thanks," I say. "I will." I wait a moment for his reply then look at my phone to see he has hung up. I guess he's already rushing off to his computer class. I bite my lip and tuck my phone away. Then I start packing.

The first thing I do is strap on the shoulder holsters under my hoodie. Then, I try to sort out where I'm going to carry my send box. It soon becomes clear I'll have to leave something behind. Going through my things I find I'll have to get rid of my laptop and most of my notebooks. I can't say I like that, but then again, I probably won't have much time to write where I'm going. I manage to save one thin notebook, but I have to take out my Bible and first aid kit to get the box to fit—and I'm not comfortable leaving either of those behind. If ever I've needed comfort, guidance, and protection from God, it's now…and as for the first aid kit, I may no longer need it but any survivors I come across might. Even after what Sonnac said about this not being a rescue mission, I can't stop thinking about the helpless people…people like I was just two week ago. I stuff my Bible into the side pocket where my laptop charger was and secure the first aid kit to one of the straps on the outside of my backpack (which thankfully mine has a lot of). That leaves only a little room for clothes, enough for one spare outfit, in fact. Since my own clothes from home haven't arrived yet, I'm stuck with one of the outfits the Templars bought for me. They're a bit dressy, but they have to do. I pack one in on top of the send box and zip my backpack shut.

Just then my phone rings. I see Micah's name and answer it. "Hey, Micah," I say. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, I did." His voice sounds worried. "Chris, are you sure about this? This island has some serious bad history."

"I'm sure. Two thousand people are counting on me, and God only knows how many more," I say. "What did you find?"

"Well, there's website for Kingsmouth, but it's not much help. Typical touristy stuff," Micah says. "One of the locals had a blog though: _Monsters of Maine_, if that gives you any ideas. He believed there were all kinds of monsters skulking about on Solomon Island, and the scary part is he had pretty decent evidence, too."

"What exactly are we talking about?"

Micah hesitates. "I'll have to do more research, but there's Wendigos, Bigfoot, a bunch of other crazy stuff, and something he calls the Pale Men. They sound like underwater zombies and he seemed to think they were coming back to Solomon Island."

"Back?" I say. "And what's a Wendigo?"

"A big scary cannibal-thing," says Micah. "It's from Indian lore."

"Native American," I correct automatically.

"Whatever," he says. "The point is, this place sounds like it was crawling with monsters before it dropped off the map. Who _knows_ what's going on there now!"

"I'll be careful," I promise.

"You better be, sis." Micah sighs. "I've got to get to my next class. I'll look the rest of this up after school and call you back then, okay?"

"Okay," I say. "Tell Dad I love him…and I love you, too."

"I…aw, don't go all mushy on me. I love you too, sis, but I gotta go now. Bye!"

With that, he hangs up and I lower the phone. What Micah said about the Pale Men strikes me as important. If something like that really has returned to Solomon Island, that could explain why it's cut off from the outside world—and it would be bad: very, very bad. I won't know for sure until I get there, though.

I pull on my backpack and shoulder my rifle. It's time to see what travel arrangements Sonnac has waiting for me at the Ealdwic Underground.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter isn't in the game, obviously. In the game, you only have to agonize over what to keep and what to throw away when your inventory fills up with monster drops, which happens to me a lot. Funcom did make two websites for Kingsmouth, though. There's a town website, which looks very authentic at "ww w. kingsmouth.c om" and a blog on Blogger called "Monsters of Maine." The latter has some really interesting in-character information about the monsters you'll meet on Solomon Island, while the former gives details about the setting. Posts on the Kingsmouth site seem to indicate activity stopping in February, but since the foliage in the environment itself indicates early autumn, I set the disaster in September.

Chris may lose the first aid kit at some point. While some forms of healing in the game can only be used on the player, leach-based healing (which is what assault-rifles offer) can be used on anyone, so the kit should be unnecessary supposing there's something nearby she can viciously gun down...and supposing it's alright to reveal her powers.

Next up, Lit Major meets Agartha...this should be interesting...


	4. Agartha

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

**_Agartha_**

_Wednesday, November 1, 5:45PM  
Ealdwic, London_

* * *

For someone who's openly toting an assault rifle around inner-city London, I don't generate a lot of attention. The police just seem to ignore me, and the other passerby seem to follow their lead. I wonder if word has gotten around that I'm with the Templars. Funny, you'd think being part of a secret society would be more…secret, but then I suppose they do have their headquarters in a large public building surrounded with banners that practically scream _Templars meet here!_ Maybe it's not such a big secret after all. I still worry about transportation, though. Unless the Templars have their own secret trans-Atlantic subway, I'll probably have to get on a public subway, train, or plane at some point—and they certainly aren't just going to let me waltz on board with an AK-47 in my arms and two pistols tucked under my jacket.

I make it to the Ealdwic Underground Station without any problem. Again, the spray-painted wooden sign hanging over the official sign seems to be more accurate, declaring the place _Ealdwych Markets_. While the exterior of the building is certainly that of a typical London subway station (though pretty outdated, compared to most), the inside is full of rickety little stalls selling all sorts of odds and ends. I spot a blond woman in the red-and-black of the Templar guard and I approach her quickly. "Excuse me, do you know where the Templar transportation is?" I ask.

She turns to me, startled. "Templar transportation?" she repeats.

"Um, yes," I say. "I'm…I'm new, but Sonnac said he'd arranged transportation for me somewhere around here…He said the Conductor would explain…"

The woman smiles. "Oh, you must mean Agartha! Well, why didn't you just say so?" She points to the stairs leading down to the platform. Most of them are shuttered and boarded up, but one of them is open and a spray-painted sign next to it says _Agartha_, with an arrow pointing down. "It's right down there," she says. "Don't worry, you can't miss it."

I heard that before about Temple Hall, and I still had to ask for plenty of directions.

I thank the woman and head down the stairs. I immediately see that this is not an ordinary subway platform. Down at the bottom, where the platform for the train should be, everything has collapsed, leaving a small open space that is—oddly—completely overgrown with thick, lush vines. I can see a golden glow in the center of it, as if welling up from the ground itself. There's no way that's normal…but then again, Sonnac did say I would be traveling by something other than conventional means.

I walk to the bottom of the stairs and look around for the Conductor, or anybody, really, but I seem to be the only person down here. Not the only living thing, though. There's a loud droning sound, and I see lots of bees darting about through the vines and looping lazily around the well of energy. I notice that a lot of them seem to be coming and going through an opening to my right. I peek around some vines and my eyes go wide. Through an opening just big enough to duck through, is a window into another world. On the other side, everything is bathed in golden light, and it looks like I'm high-up in the canopy of some kind of forest. I can see thick trees rising, surrounded by flat meandering branches the color of honeycombs. I see a bee buzz past me and fly into the membrane separating me from this place, then continue on its way on the other side. I gasp. If the bee can go through, then so can I…though what I might find on the other side…?

Then I spot a man walking on a large platform made of intersecting branches. He's wearing a uniform, a very old uniform of a conductor. This must be the man Sonnac wanted me to meet, and I'm certainly in need of some explanation! I step forward cautiously, touching the membrane, then pushing through it. One minute I'm on one side, the next I'm on the other, standing on the flat top of a honey-colored branch in the golden light that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The branch is about ten feet wide—enough that I can almost feel comfortable walking down the middle of it, despite the seemingly endless drop on either side. I slowly walk toward the man and call out to him. "Hello? Are you the Conductor?" I ask.

"Hello, yes," the man says, brushing off his uniform. He steps toward me. "How may I help you, miss?"

"Well, maybe you can tell me where I am, for starters," I say.

"Ah!" The man waves his arm grandly at our surroundings. "This is the Hollow Earth, Agartha."

"The Hollow Earth?" I repeat turning around. "Then this isn't another world?"

"Oh, no," says the Conductor. "It isn't anything unnatural, either. It may not conform to the…ah…_accepted_ theories on the Earth's consistency, but I assure you, it is very much a part of our world."

"It's hotter than London," I say, tugging at the sleeves of my jacket. "Brighter too."

"Ah, yes. You'll get used to the balmy temperature," says the Conductor. "It's for the bees, they prefer it." He says, pointing as one buzzes around his head before droning on its way. He smiles wistfully. "Their honey is remarkable, though the aftertaste—a bit like machine oil."

"It's certainly nothing like what I expected," I say, still looking around. "How is all this under Ealdwic?"

The man's lips tighten. "It's not _directly_ under Ealdwic, as such. Not directly under anything. Agartha's thoroughfares sprout from the Tree of Life itself, and connect back to the surface via portals," he says. "Time and space _bend_ in here. Why, you can cross the globe in a brisk walk! No one's entirely sure how it works…quite bedeviled the science boffins, but I'm assured they have their top men on it. Top men!" He blows out his mustache a bit, and I get the impression he doesn't have nearly the confidence in these _top men_ that he's trying to convey.

I can hardly blame him. My head spins just trying to take _in_ this place, to realize it's real. "When Sonnac said he'd arranged transportation for me, I never imagined _this_," I say.

The Conductor chuckles. "Well, I do hope you're not here for the local service, it's running somewhat tardy." He digs out a large brass pocketwatch. "By my watch it's one hundred years overdue at quarter past the hour." He clucks disapprovingly then tucks the watch away.

"Good thing I'm not taking the subway," I manage to say, thinking with half a mind that the Conductor's comment on the last time this platform was in ordinary service explains why Ealdwic Station has been turned into a bazaar. The other half of my mind is still trying to come up with some kind of measure for the size of the tree trunks spanning the room. I stop when I realize that Agartha seems big enough to swallow the Grand Canyon several times over.

Meanwhile, the Conductor begins to slowly pace around me, looking me up and down. "Judging from the cut of you, you're more of a world traveler than a subway passenger," he says. "Well, you've come to the right place. This underground realm, like the great British rail system, is the very model of efficiency. Speaking of which, here comes one of our Custodians right now."

He points to a 12-foot-tall armored giant. It took me a moment to realize it's actually a robot, an enormous man-shaped automaton that looks like it walked straight out of a steampunk story. It's all elaborate brass plates, thick pipes, and clockwork gears built into a thickset torso with arms and legs about as big around as I am. "You're custodians are giant robots?"

"Yes, well, modernization encroaches on us all…_ticket machines_, indeed," says the man. "Good for addition, I don't doubt: always with the correct change. Yet somewhat lacking in the human touch, like my thunderous companions here." He gestures to the robot, which is marching toward us along a branch.

The sound of heavy footfalls and clacking gears grows louder and I shift uncomfortably, forcefully reminded about how narrow of a platform I'm standing on, and how limited my options for escape are at the moment. "Um, should we be moving out of the way?" I ask, taking a step backward.

"Not at all," says the Conductor. "In fact, I do believe the Custodian is coming to meet you." He sees my horrified expression and pats my arm. "There, there, don't be frightened. They're not dangerous. Quite tame actually. They serve the same function as myself, in many way: greeting and orienting the travelers of this great realm. I doff my cap to them, though. For how many centuries they patrolled these stations alone, who can say? I pride myself on dedication and punctuality, but they are the original article." He stands beside me, watching the robot approach and his face grows wistful. "What faces they must have seen! Many gentlemen explorers—ladies, too—have stepped before you into Agartha's honeyed halls. That pleasant Norwegian chap, for one: Amundsen."

"Amundsen…" I turn the name over in my mind, partly to distract myself from how very, very big the robot approaching me is. "There was a Roald Amundsen who explored the poles. I remember he was mentioned in a book about Earnest Shackleton."

"The very same," the Conductor tells me. "Yes, you're in fine company, fine company indeed." His smirk turns up the end of his mustache. "I vouch a _ticket machine_ wouldn't tell you that."

The robot stops in front of us and extends its hand over my head, fist held closed, fingers down. I see a small brass orb clutched between its massive fingers and I realize it's about to drop it. "Go on, don't let it fall," the Conductor encourages me. "You'll need it." I hold out my hands and the robot let's go of the orb. It falls into my hands and I clutch it to myself.

"Mind your fingers," the Conductor warns. I feel a button under my fingers and move my hands quickly away from any possible controls. I turn the orb around and examine it. One side it's a simple sphere of engraved brass. On one face, though, there's a circular opening to an interior pulsating with blue light. It has only a single button on the side that must be how it's activated…whatever it does.

"Thank you," the Conductor says to the robot, giving it a small salute, at which it slowly turns itself around and heads back the way it came, leaving the two of us alone. The Conductor turns to me, then, and smiles at the orb in my hands. "Fascinating devices. Fortunately, there's still enough to hand them out like sweets. Consider it your anchor to the Hollow Earth. It can return you here in a flash, proverbially and quite literally."

"That sounds pretty useful," I say, and carefully tuck the orb into my pocket, careful to arrange it in such a way that the button won't get accidentally pressed. Agartha seems like an amazing place, but it wouldn't do me any good to wind up here unexpectedly.

The Conductor nods his approval and motions me forward with a wave of his hand. "Well then, let's get you to your destination, then, shall we? Tell me, world traveler, where are you bound?"

"Please, Chris," I correct. "I'm headed for New England, Solomon Island. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"Heard of it, yes, and I'll lead you there directly," he says, motioning for me to walk with him along a branch. "But if you're referring to more recent events, well…topside-speaking, I must admit to falling a touch behind the times, out of date," he admits, adjusting his collar. "You understand, though, a massive floramechanical network won't run itself. One always finds something needing doing down here. Wouldn't want to bore you with my tasks though. Suffice it to say I'm more of a groundsman than an engineer. Were we to vanish from the world—perish the thought—Agartha would still perpetuate a golden age without tarnish." He pauses at that and then lowers his voice. For the first time, his face holds a touch of concern. "I say _without tarnish_, but in confidence, troubling events are afoot." He waves a hand to the endless golden abyss below us. "Tremors of a distant thunder, outpourings of a horrific black water…I believe it gathers far beneath us in great reservoirs, and yet, I haven't the nerve to put that theorem to the test."

"Is Agartha in danger?" I ask.

The Conductor shakes his head. "I shouldn't think there's anything to worry about here, not yet in any case." Then he clears his throat. "Well, listen to me go on about the rot in the Tree of Life! I'm sure you have so many pressing cloak-and-dagger affairs to see to, up there in the world of man. Here we are then!" He points to an archway of golden wood beside the pathway. In the center of the arch, a membrane is glistening, like the one I stepped through before. I can see through it what appears to be some sort of old attic, and beyond it a dusky autumn forest. The Conductor motions me through the portal and smiles. "Onward to the New England coast, what!"

I nod, suddenly reminded of why I came, of what I may be facing. While there's nothing immediately dangerous in sight of the portal, there's no telling what waits for me beyond it. I shoulder my assault rifle and concentrate my magic. Then, I push through the membrane to the other side.

* * *

**Author's Note:** One odd side effect of any MMO is how all the NPCs will act as if it's the most normal and uninteresting thing in the world to see your character wandering around like a heavily armed freak. They will carry on casual conversations with you while you brandish incredibly dangerous weapons. The Secret World has its own way of lampshading this when you get to Kingsmouth, which will show up in a later chapter, but I thought it good to mention here, where Chris would certainly have noticed the distinct non-reaction of the people of Ealdwic. To be fair, Ealdwic has its fair share of freaks living in Darkside. There's even a fighting pit there for supernatural monsters, so simple open carry of a weapon shouldn't elicit any comment.

The helpful Templar isn't in the game, but the Conductor and the Custodian are. In the game, the Conductor is referred to as the Stationmaster, but since I'd already called him "Conductor" in a previous chapter, I decided to let it stick. I used as much of the Conductor's dialogue as possible, not only from his cutscene but also from his various dialogue options, reworking it as necessary.

Roald Amundsen is twice mentioned in the course of the Solomon Island mission. He was the Norwegian explorer who was among the first to reach both the North and South poles, before he and his crew vanished during an attempted Arctic rescue operation.


	5. Southern Welcome

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Southern Welcome**_

_Wednesday, November 1, 6:30PM  
Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

Once on the other side, I immediately notice that I'm not in a normal attic. There's the portal to the incredible realm of Agartha, buzzing with bees behind me, but that's only the beginning of the strangeness. The most obvious thing beside that is the fact that the wall on the opposite end of this long, narrow room is missing or torn away. Beyond it, I can see rocky hills and trees in autumn foliage. Some of the trees must be very close, because I can see thick roots poking through the roof of this attic here and there. I wonder if this is an old house, partially buried…or maybe it was a normal house before whatever happened in Solomon Island! That thought gives me the shivers.

Still, there's something not quite right about this room, if it is an attic. Everything tilts slightly backward, toward the portal. The floor is oddly sloped toward the center as well and there's a thick wooden beam jutting up right in front of me. I step around it and toward the missing wall, rifle shouldered and ready. There's still plenty of light for me to see, even though the sun has already set here—which seems odd: Maine should be a few hours _behind_ London…but maybe that's a part of time and space "bending" in Agartha. I can puzzle that out later, though. For now I scan the hillside surrounding the structure I've portaled into. There's nothing moving, and nothing suspicious. It looks like normal countryside, apart from another one of those glowy light-well things I saw outside the Agartha portal under Ealdwych Markets. Then, I see something odd right in front of me. The remnant of the wall looks almost like the prow of a ship…

_It **is** a ship!_ I realize. I jump down to the ground below to get a better look at it. It's an old Viking longship with some kind of thatched roof built up around the mast. The whole thing has somehow become buried in the side of a hill, with only the prow sticking out. A gasp in awe and wonder for a moment whether I should have chosen archaeology as a major instead.

The moment passes, though. The longship is an archaeological wonder, but the portal to Agartha probably isn't something I want everybody knowing about, and I have more pressing issues. I hear a scream from somewhere in the distance that reminds me of that. The scream sounds…strangled, not quite human. I level my rifle and start cautiously down the hill, in the direction of the scream. My instincts are shouting at me to go the other way, back to the portal and back to the safety of London, but it's my duty to investigate. I owe it to the Templars and people of this island.

I creep down through an opening between two massive rock formations. I can see a road through the trees up ahead, but nothing stirs on it. Between me and the road, though, just at the bottom of the hill, is a campsite: an _occupied_ campsite. Someone has set up a tent there and there's even a campfire going. Stepping closer, I see the occupants themselves. There's a Japanese girl, about my age, maybe younger. She has ruffled black hair and she's wearing a little pink jacket with some kind of anime character on it and red shorts with matching legwarmers attached by suspender straps. She's also wearing a razor blade in place of a pendant around her neck. Despite her _interesting_ fashion choices, it is the other occupant who holds my attention.

He's a man—late 30s, early 40s, I'd say—, dressed in full cowboy regalia, down to the hat, boots, and old leather coat. A lever-action Winchester is propped up on the log beside him while he uses a large tree branch to prod the fire beneath a steaming cauldron. Neither one of them seems to be the one who screamed, or the one responsible for making someone else scream, so I step cautiously forward.

The girl spots me first and waves, smiling. Then the man notices me staring at him. He waves me over and chuckles a little. "Don't worry, kid, you haven't gone back in time. I just happen to be the last of the cowboys," he says, the prods the steaming pot. "I've got your southern welcome right here: Mesquite beans, Texas style. Good ought to face evil on a full stomach."

The Japanese girl nods. "They're really good," she says, gesturing with a spoon to her own metal bowl, which is almost empty. "I'm Kaiyo Yako, by the way, agent for the Dragon."

"The Dragon?" I repeat, confused.

The girl, Kaiyo, cocks her head, looking confused herself. "You must have heard _something_ about us. If you came through Agartha you must know about the Secret World. We're one of the major cabals involved, along with the Templars and the Illuminati."

"I have heard something, not much," I say, remembering now that Micah mentioned the Dragon in passing once, as a secret faction similar to the Templars. "I guess I'm just a little surprised to be talking about secret societies openly."

"We're all in on the Secret World here, and it's no surprise that all of the big three secret societies are responding to something like this," says Kaiyo. She brushes her hair out of her eyes and looks me over. Her irises are red in the firelight. "I'm betting you're the Templar agent. You seem too nice and too careful to be with the Illuminati."

"Thanks, I think," I say. I lower my rifle and step into the camp. "My name's Christen Warden, but I prefer Chris."

"Name's Boone, Jack Boone," says the self-identified cowboy. "I'm a troubleshooter, not with or against any faction. My partner Wolf and I ride for a higher authority. When you need to know us, you'll know us."

"Pleasure to meet you, I guess," I say. His mysterious introduction is certainly more along the lines of what I expected, rather than Kaiyo's exuberant openness. My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven't eaten since lunch. The baked beans do smell wonderful, but I have something else on my mind. "Did either of you hear a scream? I thought it was from somewhere near the road and it didn't sound quite right."

Kaiyo nods. "I've been hearing them off and on ever since I got here. They don't seem to be leaving the road, though, so we should be alright. I got a good look at some of them, though. Pretty much classic zombies."

"Zombies?" I repeat. I clutch my rifle again without thinking.

"Hold it, partner," says Boone. "They aren't comin' 'round here, and as far as we can tell they ain't the catchin' type. We've got other matters to attend to, and you and me need to have a pow-wow before you run off on your little crusade." He stirs the fire once more with the charred stick, then lays it aside to look directly at me. "You Templars may take the high road, but just watch you don't get saddle rash from that high horse, okay? It's good work you do, and proud, but that can make for a blinkered combination. Can get you all tangled up trying to prove your prouder and more good than the next guy—or girl."

"I'm just here to scout out the situation, see what can be done to help these people and see what happened to them…so it doesn't happen anywhere else," I say.

Boone strokes his beard and looks at me with narrowed eyes. "Do you really believe that's all?" he challenges quietly. "You really think your boss would have sent you special delivery if it didn't kick dirt on the Illuminati's shoes?"

I shift and look down at my own feet. I don't have a good answer for that one. After all, Sonnac did say the reason I was being sent was because the Illuminati couldn't be trusted to handle the situation themselves. Whether that's really true or not, it's impossible to deny that there's a certain amount of politics and self-interest involved in my being sent here, especially since I'm not actually supposed to rescue anyone. I look back up and manage to meet Boone's gaze, then I shake my head slowly, acknowledging the truth of his assessment.

Boone's face softens somewhat. "Well, listen kid, I ain't here to pass no judgment. Find the measure of yourself, and if it should match with the company you keep, well then, I tip my hat to you. After all, society is what keeps us apart from the dark." He looks off into the forest, back the way I came. "Speakin' of society, we ought to have an agent from one more at least to join us for dinner." He looks back to me. "Go on 'nd sit down."

I take a seat next to Kaiyo, who hands me a spoon and a metal bowl heaped with beans. "Careful, it's hot," she says. I nod and place the bowl in my lap. The beans are very good.

I'm just finishing up when I hear a rustling in the forest. A branch snaps nearby. I pick up my rifle and focus my _anima_. Boone shifts too, but doesn't reach for his rifle. Kaiyo looks in the direction of the noise and looks almost as tense as I am, but she doesn't appear to have any weapons and instead one hand hovers over an odd, stuffed doll made of cloth with bits of colored yarn that hangs off a keychain on her waist. Her other hand closes around the razor blade she wears as a pendant.

A moment later, though, she relaxes. I lower my rifle as well, for I can see that the source of the noise isn't a zombie. Instead it's a dark-haired young man with a thin line of beard framing his face. He wears a trench coat over a button-down shirt and slacks, and he's holding a large sledgehammer that's difficult to describe. The head is somewhere between rectangular and round, colored somewhere between blue, green, and gray. The shaft shifts between red, orange, and yellow, and the air seems to bend a little around it. It makes the weapon a little difficult and disconcerting to look at.

The young man comes fully into the firelight and sees us all staring at him. He smirks. "Hey, don't tell me I missed the party."

"You're just in time, Illuminati," says Boone. "You're kind's been missed around these parts. They put on one hell of a homecoming parade. Got zombies 'nd everything."

"Zombies?" The young man laughs nervously. "You're kidding, right?"

Boone shakes his head. "Sit down, kid, and eat up. Might be the last good meal you get in a while. When you're finished, I'll tell you all I know about what's happened here."

The young man takes a seat on a collapsible camp chair and props the sledgehammer against his knee. He accepts a bowl from Boone, but doesn't dig in immediately. "I was told to expect you, man. You have a…reputation for showing up where you're not wanted," says the young man. "But what's with the chicks?" he asks, waving his spoon at Kaiyo and I.

"I'm Kaiyo Yako, and I'm with the Dragon," Kaiyo says brightly.

"Figures," says the young man. "Wherever there's chaos to cause and stuff to fuck up, the Dragon's sure to go…and if I recall your file, you like to get more personally involved in the fucking stuff up department than some."

Surprisingly, Kaiyo doesn't seem offended by this, just amused. "I do have my talents," she says.

The young man turns his attention to me. "So, babe, what's your story?" he asks, before shoveling a spoonful of beans into his mouth.

"Christen Warden," I say simply. "Templars."

The Illuminati agent spews out the mouthful of beans and nearly spills the bowl in his lap reaching for his weird hammer. I've already tipped the barrel of my rifle toward him and my finger is on the trigger. It wouldn't be a great position to shoot from, but I could still probably kill him. Beside me Kaiyo's hand goes back to the colorful doll keychain and the razor on her necklace.

Boone stands up, holding out his hands. "Whoa, there! There'll be no fightin' here!" he says. We all relax, marginally. "Now, I get that we're all here for different purposes. Me and my partner Wolf are here for our own reasons, Miss Yako is here on assignment to cause and observe chaos for the Dragon's theories, Miss Warden is here to fight monsters and kick dirt on the Illuminati's shoes, and you're here, young man, because the Illuminati are tryin' on corporate responsibility for size—or more like somebody made a fuss to the right people, 'nd you're here so your boss can get 'em to shut up." He looks at each of us in turn, and I make myself lower my rifle. "Sure, we can be divided in purpose, but we've got to stand united against darkness. This ain't my first rodeo, and I can tell just lookin' at this place we're gonna need all the unity we can get. You'll either work together, or we'll all be pushin' up daisies—if we're lucky that is."

"Is it really that bad, man?" asks the young man.

Boone nods. "I don't mean to say you stepped into hell, but when the wind blows west, you can just about smell the brimstone."

"Fuck," the young man mutters, head in his hands. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

"First time in the field?" Kaiyo asks.

"Hell yeah," he says. "I'm not supposed to be a part of any of this fucked-up field work shit you guys do." He catches a glare from me, regarding his language, and corrects himself. "Ladies, sorry! Jesus!" I roll my eyes, but he ignores it. "The name's Dan MacFadden. I'm in talent acquisition, or I'm supposed to be. Turns out one of the particular people my client was interested in belonged to this." He taps the hammer. "And he had the nerve to up and die on me—some stupid-ass gas explosion."

"Let me guess," Kaiyo interrupts. "After the previous owner died, you tried to take the hammer."

"Yeah, I figured it would pique my boss' interest—and I wasn't wrong, about that at least," Dan says defensively. "But how was I supposed to know it'd also bond to me like the fucking overly-attached girlfriend?"

I struggle, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh at Dan's choice of metaphor, and he takes the opportunity to roll his eyes at me.

"Ah, the Hammer of Eris?" says Kaiyo. "I thought I recognized it. It must be fascinating being bonded to such an ancient artifact."

"Fucking annoying more like," says Dan.

"What do you mean _bonding_?" I ask.

Kaiyo gives me a startled look, as if I'd just asked her to define the color blue. "Oh, uhm, well, when someone's bonded to something, it means they're attached, metaphysically. They can't be separated."

"In my case it means if I'm not in regular contact with this stupid hammer, I get cold sweats, nasty headaches, the works," says Dan. Then he grabs the shaft of the hammer possessively. "But don't you even _think_ of trying to test that out, Templar."

I hold up my hands. "We're all on the same side here…more or less, like Boone said."

"That's right, missie," Boone says. "You'll make a mighty fine Templar if you keep that attitude 'nd remember you're not above the rest of us."

"Thanks," I say, then shift on the log. "So…this island used to belong to the Illuminati. Any ideas what we should expect?"

"Not a fucking clue," says Dan. "Nobody in my organization's set foot on this island in a hundred years."

Boone nods his confirmation. "Whatever happened here, the Illuminati aren't to blame, at least not directly, though I'll not rule out some half-forgotten skeletons comin' out of their closets. Solomon Island has plenty of buried secrets," he says, then shakes his head. "Too much gone wrong for such a little island, but this is how it always starts. I've borne witness to it more times than I care to remember." He gazes off into the forest, as he remembers. "There's always the history, buried and waiting. Then somethin' sets it off. It begins with a single act: usually someone bein' damn stupid, damn greedy, or both—and let me tell you kids, that kind is the worst kind. Then…then it just piles on and piles on. Once that cellar door is open, ain't no one wedging the damn thing shut again."

"Any idea what set it off here?" Kaiyo asks.

Boone shakes his head. "All we know is death and fog came from the sea, or somebody brought it with 'em. If I were a gambling man, I'd put money on whoever that was still bein' around."

"Are there any survivors?" I ask.

He nods. "Bunch of 'em holed up in Kingsmouth town. Follow the main road down there, and the sound of gunfire, and you'll find 'em. That's the first thing I reckon you ought to do."

"And what about you, man?" asks Dan.

"I'm charged with keepin' watch here, least whatever brought this the fog down on Solomon Island find its way into Agartha. There'd be no stoppin' it then." He stops and look at us, his eyes hard. His hand curls into a fist. "As for the rest of you, whatever your reasons for bein' here, you find out what those people died for…and you bring a reckoning!"

I nod soberly.

Beside me, Kaiyo smiles and says, "I plan to, after all, that's what I'm good at." She takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky. While we've been eating and talking , full dark has fallen. The first quarter moon is peeking through the treetops at the edge of the camp. "I think I'll start out now," she says. "You two can catch up!" She grabs an overstuffed backpack shaped like a cartoon bunny, pushes a thick leatherbound book inside, and begins to put it on.

I blink in surprise. "You're leaving _now_?"

"Of course!" she says. "It'd be a shame to waste such a beautiful night!"

With that, she sets off skipping through the woods toward the main road..and toward where I heard the scream earlier. I grab my rifle and am about to start off after her, but Boone grabs my arm. "Whoa, there kid! Hold you're horses! Don't go chasin' after Miss Yako, and don't go worryin' about her neither."

I try to shake him off, but his grip is too strong. "An unarmed girl has just gone skipping off into the dark toward a zombie-infested road and you want me to wait here?"

"You don't know, do you? You're actually worried about her?" Dan guffaws. "Cute!"

"She's just a little raw, that's all," Boone says.

I let him guide me back to my seat while I glare at Dan. "What don't I know, Mister MacFadden?" I demand.

Dan laughs again. "God, you sound like a librarian. _Mister MacFadden_. I don't think I've been called that since I joined the Illuminati!"

I glare at him silently.

"Miss Yako's got gifts and weapons that ain't apparent," Boone explains. "She can more than take care of herself, especially at night."

"She's a dhampir—a human with vampire heritage—they're stronger at night," Dan says. "On top of that, she's been studying magic with the Dragon since she was eight. She's probably the most powerful blood mage in half a century, and her elemental magic isn't far behind." He chuckles. "If you're going to worry about someone out there, worry about the fucking zombies!"

"Oh." I sit back, mentally reviewing the way Kaiyo reacted every time there was a threat. That weird doll could be some kind of elemental magic focus, like the one I tried to use in the Crucible. As for the razor blade, the application of that to blood magic seems pretty obvious, as long as blood magic involves drawing actual blood from the user.

Dan shakes his head, still amused by my cluelessness. "You're such a fucking noob. What were those shitheads in London thinking when they sent you?"

"I reckon she's got gifts that ain't apparent too," Boone warns. "For starters, that gun she's been wavin' around ain't loaded, but she was lookin' at you like she knew she could kill with it."

"Was it that obvious?" I ask Boone.

Boone shakes his head. "I just know what to look for."

Dan looks to Boone. "You're kidding right?" He looks back at me. "You're carrying around an unloaded gun? Are you fucking stupid? How will you defend yourself?"

I know I shouldn't, but I let my temper get the better of me. "Like this!" I say, and then I do something every gun instructor told me never to do. I raise my rifle, pointing it just over Dan's head. I concentrate my _anima_ and fire a single explosive "round" of my magic. A tree branch behind Dan cracks, then snaps off entirely. Dan has to duck to avoid being scratched by it as it falls.

"Holy shit!" he says, shielding his head.

"You had that one coming partner," Boone says to him, motioning for me to lower my gun.

I do so, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. Once my anger cools enough, my presence of mind returns enough for me to feel embarrassed. "Sorry," I mutter.

"Sorry I doubted you!" Dan says quickly, then, unexpectedly, he smiles. "Have to say though, I dig your style. You sure you want to stick with the London crowd? They can be a dull bunch."

"I am," I say firmly. If he's any representation of what the Illuminati are like, I certainly want nothing to do with them.

"That's quite enough from both of you," Boone says slowly. "You got a hard day ahead, and the body'll need rest if you're to survive. Best get some sleep. I'll stand watch."

I nod and remember I wanted to call Micah, and that I need to report back to Sonnac if possible. I pull out my phone and am a little surprised to find I have a good signal. Then again, it's not an ordinary phone, so I suppose it's to be expected. "I have to make a call," I say. I dig a flashlight from my backpack and throw the shoulder strap of the AK47 around my neck, securing the weapon. "I'll be back there, by the portal."

Boone nods. "See that you don't stray from it," he warns. "Portal's safe, but there's worse than zombies in these woods."

I nod and switch on my flashlight, picking my way carefully back up the hill to the cave. I can see the glow of the strange light-well soon, and I stop beside it, within sight of the portal, to make my call. The first number I dial is home.

The phone rings four times before my Dad picks up. "Hello?" he says.

"Hi, Dad," I answer.

"Chris! Sorry, you caught us during dinner," he says. "Are you doing alright? Any news on when you can get back to your apartment?"

I bite my lip, remembering that my Dad doesn't know about my powers or my role in the Secret World. I don't know that he could handle it, and I certainly don't want to tell him that his eldest daughter is poking around for a London-based monster-hunter league on an island infested with zombies. "I'm fine," I say. "They're still working on repairing my old apartment. I'm on a field trip with my school now."

"Where to?" he asks.

"Maine, actually, I just wanted to let you know I arrived safe and sound."

"I didn't know you were coming to the States," he said.

"I didn't know either until just recently. The trip was very sudden, but I guess that's how they do things in London." I shift and look at my feet. The half-truths and lies are making me uncomfortable, and there's Micah's research to complete. "Can I talk to Micah?" I ask.

"Sure," he says. I hear him shout for my brother to come to the phone. Then he says, "Be careful in Maine, and make sure you get a flu shot if you can. There's been an outbreak on one of the islands there and they've had to quarantine it."

"I'll be careful," I assure him. "I love you," I say, and I mean it.

"I love you, too. Here's your brother."

There's the slight rustle of a phone being passed hand-to-hand, then Micah's voice comes on. "Hey, sis! What's up?"

"I arrived on Solomon Island, safe and sound for now," I say.

"There already? That was quick," he says.

"I'll have to tell you about it some time," I say. "Did your research turn up anything about non-underwater zombies?" I ask.

Micah lowers his voice. "Um, no, but the Pale Men were supposed to be able to go above water," he says. "Why do you ask?"

"Apparently they're all over Solomon Island," I say.

"You mean you're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse right now? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, and so far the only sign of zombies is one creepy scream off in the distance," I assure him.

"Well just make sure you don't get bit, and shoot anybody who does," Micah advises.

"These zombies don't work like that," I tell him. "According to one of the guys here, who seems pretty experienced, they're not contagious."

"Well, that's a relief," says Micah. "Still best not to take a chance, though."

"Don't worry," I say. "It might not kill me, but I have no desire to be hurt by a zombie. Did you find out anything more from your research?"

"Yeah," he says. "Apparently, the Pale Men were brought to Solomon Island by the Vikings about a thousand years ago. Did you know the Vikings got here before Columbus?"

"Yes," I say, patting the prow of the half-buried Viking longship beside me.

"Well, anyway, the Vikings helped the natives fight some kind of war against darkness or whatever and they made the Pale Men fight on their side, even though they're evil. When the Vikings left, some of the Pale Men stayed behind. They're amphibious or something, so they don't go far from the water and they've never been seen anywhere else. Some of them are giants and lots of them look like members of the Flying Dutchman's crew."

"The what?"

"Oh, come on, sis. _Pirates of the Caribbean 2_ and _3_?"

"Sorry, it's been a while, and I only saw each of those movies once," I say. One and four were way better anyway, in my opinion. "What about them?"

"Well they're covered in fish parts, and other parts, like Davy Jones has that octopus-tentacle beard thing, and then there's that other guy with the hammerhead-shark head?"

"I remember." Vaguely, but I remember. "So you're saying the Pale Men look like them? They have…fish parts too?"

"Yeah, and they were photographed dragging some huge pods ashore back in the '70s, but nobody's seen them since. The guy who made this blog—Tyler Freeborn—he seemed to think they'd be coming back some day, though," he says.

"That's not much to go on, but it's better than nothing," I say. "Anything else?"

"A smattering of other monster reports, but nothing solid," says Micah. "Of course, if these zombies aren't aquatic, then I guess we're back to square one."

"Maybe. I guess I'll find out tomorrow," I say, then take a deep breath. "Thanks for everything, Micah. I'll call you back when I can. Tell Dad I love him and I'm staying safe."

"I will. Be careful, sis," he says. "If you die and become a zombie, I swear I'll kill you."

"Thanks, I think…I love you to, Micah," I say. Then I hang up. I still have one more call to make, and it's getting late in London.

To my surprise, he answers on the first ring, even though I know it must be 1 o'clock in the morning over there. His voice does sound a little groggy though. "Chris," he says. "I take it your arrival was without complications."

"I got through Agartha safe and sound," I report. "The portal's being guarded on this side by someone called Jack Boone."

"Ah, an old ally, though is presence on Solomon Island is…somewhat troubling," says Sonnac. "He and his partner John Wolf are never deployed into a situation unless it is truly important, truly dire, or both."

"Well, he says there are zombies on the island, and that some kind of fog came in from the sea," I say. "He seems to think someone brought it back to the island and that they're still here, so he's guarding the portal to keep them from getting out that way."

"A sound tactical decision," Sonnac comments. "We are familiar, of course, with the walking undead, though not as they're portrayed in television or trashy horror novels. Their bite, in particular, is no more or less dangerous than yours or mine. Their primary advantage is their very nature: not alive, not dead, and consequently able to continue fighting so long as whatever force reanimated them remains viable. Still, they are normally only a threat in large numbers."

"Well, apparently they have that here, I don't know for sure though," I say. "I haven't seen any of them myself. But I'm going into Kingsmouth tomorrow to see the survivors, and I'll get a better idea how many zombies there are by talking to them."

"Very well," says Sonnac. "Just remember what I said. This is not a rescue operation."

I nod. "I know," I say. "There's one other thing, though. The Dragon and the Illuminati have both sent agents to Solomon Island as well."

"That was to be expected, I'm afraid," says Sonnac. "Names?"

"Kaiyo Yako is the Dragon agent. Dan MacFadden is the Illuminati agent."

"We have extensive files on Miss Yako, but I confess ignorance with the other one," says Sonnac.

"He says he was just a recruiter for the Illuminati until he accidently got bound to the Hammer of Eris," I say.

"Ah, we were wondering when that particular artifact would turn back up. That it had fallen into Illuminati hands was a foregone conclusion."

"Is it dangerous? Should I be worried?" I ask.

"Yes to the first, and not particularly to the second. Really its powers are localized and mainly defensive, though quite impressive. The upper curve of its potential pales in comparison with your own, however, which should put you and a novice wielder roughly on par with one another," says Sonnac. "Nevertheless, caution is advised."

"I'll be careful, and I'll report back as soon as I find out more," I promise. I look at the phone then and see that he's already hung up. I can't blame him. This day has left me exhausted too.

I make my way back to the camp and find Jack Boone sitting on a log, staring out at the forest while Dan wriggles on the ground beside the fire, trying vainly to get comfortable. "Tent's all yours, Miss Warden," Boone tells me.

I smile and thank him. I try not to turn down chivalry when it benefits me, and it's especially hard to refuse when it makes someone like Dan uncomfortable. I go into the tent and lie down on the cot I find inside. I pray for Kaiyo's safety during the night, and that of the Kingsmouth survivors. I also pray for my own safety tomorrow morning when Dan and I set out ourselves. There's lots to think about, and lots to worry me about my first mission, but in spite of all of it I am soon asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Before you ask, the "glowy light-well things" Chris keeps referring to are the game's _anima_ wells, where players revive and can resurrect their bodies. She will eventually learn this term and their purpose (some missions _do_ require the player to die). So far in game, I have managed not to get Chris (an actual character that I play) killed, though there have been a couple close calls related to drawing too much unwanted attention, averted by a well-timed "energy drink" potion. I confess to killing her once deliberately so I could resurrect across the map without having to run all that way...but I digress!

The portal to Agartha in Kingsmouth actually is in a buried Viking longship, which I, like Chris, mistook for an attic at first. The backstory of the Vikings, natives, and Pale Men is addressed in the "Monsters of Maine" blog mentioned earlier and also in the in-game Lore segment: "The Darkness War." The Pale Men are, of course, the Draug, one of the game's monsters, and their signature feature is tentacles, barnacles, crab pincers and other pieces of marine life sprouting from their bodies. The crew of the _Flying Dutchman_ in the second and third _Pirates of the __Caribbean_ movies were the only analogue I could think of, and it would definitely be something Micah could use as a reference. No comment on Chris' movie preferences!

Zombie screams are a _very_ common thing to hear in Kingsmouth, so much so that they tend to become a part of the background noise that players ignore. Sometimes players will even ignore the actual _zombies_, running through town with a pack of them howling at their heels until the zombies have had enough and go running back the way they came._  
_

James Boone is the first quest-giver NPC you meet in Kingsmouth zone, and his lines are taken from a cutscene and the various lines of dialogue he'll say, mixed freely. Not all of these dialogue options can be heard in-game with a single character, since he will say different things depending on which faction your character is a part of. I have characters in all three factions, so I was able to hear all the dialogues and pick and choose what fit the conversation.

Speaking of which, it is my pleasure to introduce Kaiyo Yako and Daniel MacFadden, my Dragon and Illuminati characters. In the game, all three factions are sending agents to Solomon Island, which makes sense, given the scale of the disaster (even the unofficial factions of the Secret World, the Phoenicians and the Orachi, send agents there!), and I wanted to depict that, as well as give myself some peers in the field for Chris to interact with. I didn't want to have them all have the same backstory as Chris, though, as far as acquiring their powers and becoming agents (which is pretty much what happens in the game). Consequently, neither Kaiyo nor Dan are "Bees."

In game, there are Vampires, which the player eventually fights in Transylvania. Some of them are almost entirely human in appearance, which leads to the possibility of human/vampire offspring. According to Balkan folklore, a dhampir is the offspring of a vampire and a human. They were said to have the powers of a vampire but not their weaknesses, and they were thus uniquely qualified to become vampire hunters, which was their traditional role and remains their preferred trade in most fiction (this is one reason I was a little shocked to hear from a friend that apparently in the _Twilight_ series the vampires trying to kill Bella/Edward's child are _relieved_ to find out she's a dhampir and figure because of that she's not a threat, but then again _Twilight_ vampires are weird like that). I'm not sure what all being a dhampir will mean for Kaiyo, but I'm sure it must be good for her blood magic! By comparison, my idea for Dan's predicament is fairly original. It does serve as a cautionary tale not to just go around picking up weird artifacts if you don't know what they do. There are hammers and chaos focuses in the game, but no Hammer of Eris with the properties of both and such a unique appearance. As for Dan himself, I tried to base his mannerisms and personality on those of the recruiter who talks to Illuminati characters in a cutscene at the very beginning of the game. I apologize for his rather excessive language.

The overly attached girlfriend is an internet meme and youtube personality.

The dialogue with Sonnac at the end of this chapter does not appear in the game, so it's my creation. I think I captured Sonnac's manner well enough, and I imagine he'd care enough to stay up waiting for an agent to report in from her first assignment in the field.


	6. For a Fistful of Zombies

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**For a Fistful of Zombies**_

_Thursday, November 2, 6:01AM  
Agartha Entrance, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

The cold air wakes me before first light. I lay on the cot for half an hour, curled up against the almost painfully crisp air, trying to steal a few more minutes of sleep as the walls of the tent around me are slowly transformed by the play of tree shadows and the steadily brightening sunlight. I give up when my phone says it's just past 6 o'clock. I can hear gunshots echoing from somewhere in the distance. I have to remind myself that this is a good sound under the circumstances, because gunshots means survivors…at least, hopefully it does. I can hear other noises too, nearer at hand: the quiet murmur of two men's voices and the low crackling of a campfire. This last is what convinces me to get up and step out into the cold morning air.

Jack Boone and Dan MacFadden are both up already. Dan is sitting a camp chair, hunched over the fire, trying to warm himself. Boone on the other hand seems untouched by the cold. He paces back and forth at the edge of camp holding his Winchester. He glares through the trees in the direction of the road. Then suddenly he shoulders his rifle and fires into the forest. I don't see what he's shooting at until it hits the ground. It's a man, or at least, it looks like a man. His clothes are tattered and bloody and his skin is a flakey pale gray. He has multiple gaping wounds large enough for me to see from here, but in spite of them he moans once and struggles to rise before a second shot from Boone stills him.

"A zombie," I realize. I swallow and force myself to calm down. _At least it isn't the Filth-infested kind from that weird dream_, I tell myself, though the truth is that facing even a garden variety zombie in real life is more terrifying than any nightmare.

Dan looks up from rubbing his hands over the fire. "Of course it's a zombie," he says flatly. "What the fuck were you expecting? A cupcake?"

"I've just…never seen one in real life before, okay?" I admit reluctantly.

Dan shakes his head. "You really are a noob," he says.

"You'll see enough of 'em to last a lifetime soon," says Boone, not taking his eyes off the surrounding woodlands. "The forest crawls with 'em this morning. Get's my fingers itchin' for two matters. One—" He raises the Winchester again. This time I see what he's shooting at the moment before he fires. There's another zombie shambling towards us, a man with blistered gray skin clad in nothing but his boxers. I see him just in time to catch Boone's shot slamming into the zombies head in a spray of red. I feel a little nauseous . Even with the hole in the side of its head, the zombie still manages an inhuman shriek before it falls to the ground.

"The other, figurin' out a way to make 'em stay down," Boone finishes, lowering his rifle.

"Looks like you've got that one down," Dan says.

"Oh, he'll be up again," says Boone. "Give 'em a few hours, and they'll be back up an' walkin' around, headwound and all." He shakes his head. "It ain't right the way the dead walk the earth. They deserve their six feet the same as anyone else."

Dan's eyes narrow in confusion, but I catch the reference. "Sonnac told me they could keep fighting as long as whatever reanimated them was still in effect," I say. "Till we find that, I guess keeping down the number of active zombies will be an ongoing problem."

"Right on both counts," says Boone. "I'll wager whoever or whatever keeps 'em going is the same thing as brought the fog to Solomon Island." He turns away from the woods for the first time and looks at the two of us directly. "Now I'm sworn to keepin' guard here and you two got places to be, but nothin's stoppin' you from cullin' the herd as you go. Hell, find out what makes 'em tick and how to make that tickin' stop, and I'll buy you a beer at the apocalypse."

"I'll hold you to that," says Dan, smirking.

Suddenly, I hear a horn blare, followed by several wet thumps and the squeal of brakes. Everyone tenses. Moments later there are gunshots—much closer than the ones I heard in the tent before—and screaming.

"Someone's in trouble! We've got to help him!" I reach for my rifle, but it's still in the tent. I go back in after it, and my backpack with the first aid kit attached.

"It's too far away," I hear Boone say behind me. "I can't see anything through the trees, and if I run off and leave my post, we risk this gettin' out into the world!"

"Stay then," I say, throwing on my backpack and lifting my rifle. "Dan and I'll take care of it!"

"Hell no!" says Dan. "You Templars want to play hero, that's your concern."

I glare at him, but I half expected this reasoning and I have a ready reply. "And what if that person happens to be the only one who knows what happened on this Island? The only one who knows whose responsible for brining zombies and fog to your island? Your boss might not be too happy if you let him or her die without learning what they know first," I say.

Dan glares at me, then says, "Fuck!" and lifts his hammer, pushing himself out of the chair. He charges towards the road and I have to run to keep up with him.

We descend a small rise and pass a large gray boulder to reach the road. The scene there is chaotic. Abandoned cars lie here and there all along the highway. To my right is a sedan, rolled over on its side. To my left and across the road, a red pickup with an enclosed bed has hit a telephone pole, tilting it. The door is open and three people are down on their hands and knees beside it, kneeling over something. Then one of them—a woman in an orange sweater with a tangled mass of black hair—lifts her head and I see her face isn't human, not anymore. She is a zombie. Her right eye is dead white while her left missing, with only a dark, bloody hole to mark where it should be. A mass of raw meat is in her mouth, red running down her chin. She gurgles as she chews, and I notice where the meat came from: a body that the other two zombies are still hunched over, tearing at. It's a human body, and it could be the person who fired those shots.

I clench my jaw, raise my rifle, and fire a three round burst. My shots aren't as accurate as Boone's, but the result is the same. Red mist slams the zombie's head sideways as the meat falls from its mouth. It manages one final gurgle before it collapses. The other two zombies rise and turn towards me. I hit the second with a burst in the torso. It jerks, but does not go down until a second burst, a little higher, finishes the job. By this time, the third zombie is charging at me. It's surprisingly fast. I panic and sweep it with fully automatic fire. The zombie doubles over, hit, and I finish it with a burst through the top of its head.

Once it's down, I look at the body the zombies were trying to eat. There's not much left but shredded meat and white bones. I don't see even tatters of clothes and there's no gun and no shell casings to be seen. I doubt that three zombies could have done this to a person in the time it took us to run down to the road. It's probably an older corpse, not our shooter. I turn to tell Dan this, wondering where he went during the fight.

Suddenly, death-cold hands clamp down on my right arm with an unyielding, wiry grip. I turn to find a fourth zombie has come in from the side and latched onto me. It opens a mouthful of uneven teeth and moves in for a bite.

But before it can, the Hammer of Eris cuts a blue-silver arc through the air beside me, landing on the zombie's head. I hear bone crush and the zombie releases my arm, falling to the ground beside me. I turn to find Dan standing over it. "Thank you. You saved my life," I say, more than a little surprised.

"I assure you it was for perfectly selfish reasons," he says. "Look over there!"

I look down the road to my left and see more than a dozen zombies standing around near a dusty red pickup truck. Some of them are looking our way with their unnerving blank white eyes. The only things between us and them is a old white BMW sedan a few yards away and an orange gas can a few yards beyond that.

"Loud sounds and sudden movements get their attention, so let's not do either of those, okay?" Dan says.

"But the shots came from that direction," I say.

"Then we'll just go around," says Dan.

I shake my head. "There could be more of them in the forest, and besides it would take too long." I see a dark, glistening patch on the asphalt beneath the gas can. I nod toward it. "You said the last owner of the Hammer of Eris died in a gas explosion, do you think you could make that explode _without_ dying?"

"Sure, the last owner was a fucking idiot, but I don't see how that'll help."

"It won't," I say. "Unless I lure the zombies over while you do it. That might even the odds."

Dan looks at me, then shifts his grip on the hammer. "Sure you don't want to go around?"

"There's no time," I say, trying to sound confident while inwardly praying that I haven't made a mistake.

"Right, then," he says. "Let's just move toward them slow and easy, and you make a loud noise when I give the word."

We move forward slowly. The zombies who were staring at us mostly lose interest. Several of them kneel over something I can't see on the other side of the pickup truck. I hope it's not our shooter. I stop at the back of the BMW while Dan continues further, till he's within one yard of the gas can. The zombies seem to be ignoring us, or else completely oblivious to our presence. Dan holds his hammer parallel to the ground, with both hands. "Alright, let's make some noise," he says.

I jump up and slam my full weight into the trunk of the car. It's not much, but a lot of these old cars have oversensitive car alarms, and this one is no exception. A three toned alarm starts wailing at headache-inducing decibels. The zombies scramble to their feet and look my way. The begin to shamble toward the noise, a little confused at first, but then they break into a run. I open fire, using short bursts to pick off zombies on the flanks who might escape our trap. "Dan, light it!" I shout.

"They need to be closer!" he shouts back.

The nearest zombies are within a couple yards of him, and coming on fast. I'm afraid he'll be overrun, and I have no desire to watch him die. "Dan!" I shout.

"Closer!" he insists. He waits another second, till the zombies are almost on top of him, some even past the gas can, then he jumps backward and thrusts the hammer forward.

A wave of red fire rolls out of the handle, through the air and the intervening zombies, and hits the gas can. Then there's a fireball. I shield my eyes as a wave of heat rolls past me. When I open my eyes again the zombies are screaming louder than the car alarm, their bodies engulfed in flame. I fire bursts at a few that are still mobile, but it soon becomes apparent that none of them are going to walk away from this one. One by one they all collapse into burning heaps and lay still. Their screams go silent even as their lifeless tissue burns.

I step around the old sedan and find Dan picking himself up off the asphalt. His bootlaces are a little singed, but otherwise he seems to be alright. "They needed…to be closer," he says, breathing hard.

"I can't argue with your results," I say.

"Good. Then shut off that stupid alarm before more zombies come to check it out."

"I…uh…don't know how," I admit sheepishly.

Dan rolls his eyes, hefts his hammer, and moves over to the car. He swings the hammer down on the hood twice, hard enough to leave deep dents, but this only causes the alarm to switch tones. "Fuck it!" he says, giving up. "Let's see what the zombies were so interested in over here and then get the hell out of here."

We pick our way around and over the smoldering corpses to the dusty red pickup. There are two bodies over here, both badly mauled. I don't want to think about the teeth that made those wounds. Most of them are still bleeding. I force myself to ignore that and look for identifying features. The woman is in hiking clothes, and her face is mercifully hidden. The man's lifeless eyes stare at her, his mouth still open in a scream. I see a badge on his chest and realize his torn and bloody clothes are what's left of a police uniform. In his hand I see a semi-automatic pistol—a Glock, I think—it's slide locked open, spent cartridges littered on the ground around him. A pair of zombies lie nearby, littered with fresh bullet holes.

"Congratulations," says Dan. "Looks like we found our shooter."

I kneel down and close his eyes respectfully. I wish I could do more. I wish I had been able to save him, but I know there was nothing I could have done, and that beating myself up with guilt over it won't help. That's what I tell myself anyway. I pull off his badge, which bears the name Nathaniel Henry, and something else comes with it, a paper. I unfold it. _Don't try to be a hero, _it reads,_ just get all the ammo you can find and get the hell back to the Sheriff's Office in Kingsmouth town. Lives depend on it!_ The last sentence is underlined, and the note is signed, _Deputy Andy_.

I stand and hold the note out to Dan. As he reads it, I go over to the truck. Standing this close, I realize the engine is still running. Four large ammo cans sit in the back. I lift one experimentally. It's nearly heavy enough to require both hands. They're definitely full. "We need to get this ammo to the Sheriff's Office, now," I say.

"_We_ don't have to do anything," says Dan. "You see what playing the hero did for this guy. You want to end up like him, that's your call, Templar."

I grit my teeth and try to think of a way to put this that even he can't refuse. "This truck is loaded with ammunition, the keys are in the ignition, and it's still running," I look him in the eye. "Are you telling me you'd rather _walk_ all the way to Kingsmouth with nothing but that stupid hammer?"

Dan glares at me, then sighs and looks down. When he looks back up, he refuses to meet my gaze, staring past me instead. "Fuck me!" he says abruptly.

My fists clench, finally snapping at his obscenities. "You don't have to be so rude about it!" I say.

"No, literally! Look behind you!" Dan shouts, raising his hammer. I realize the look in his eyes isn't hate or defiance, but alarm.

I turn then and see a massive zombie emerging from the forest. He stands over seven feet tall with freakishly huge muscles, so large his skull-like face is almost swallowed by them. He reminds me of the huge zombie Sarah faced in my strange dream of the Tokyo Incident. How such a creature could once have been human is beyond my comprehension, but there's no time to even try to understand. The zombie his charging at us!

I raise my rifle and fire, but though I see my shots ripping through the zombie's thick muscles, it doesn't even slow his charge. Dan rushes past me to face the zombie, slamming it in the gut with a swing of his hammer. Whether this actually hurts the zombie or not, it does get his attention. He stops his charge and raises his meaty fists over his head. Dan steps back and holds his hammer, ready to block the blow, but when the zombie brings down its fists, it is not on Dan. Instead he slams them into the ground. Chunks of asphalt fly everywhere and Dan is thrown backward. Then I stand alone against the monster.

I try to go for the headshot, but my _anima_ bullets are deflected by thick muscle and bone. They do not slow the zombie measurably, though now it is bleeding heavily from numerous wounds. It does get the zombie to look at me. I step back, realizing that it is about to charge at me and that I cannot stop it before it reaches me…at least, not with the spells I have. In desperation, I reach for the grenade launcher attached under the barrel of my AK47. It's the only thing I can even imagine being powerful enough to put down this zombie. I don't know any spells for it, but Sonnac said I would learn new ones on my own in time. If ever there was a time I needed that, it's now!

I convince myself that I can, because it is that or die, and I do not think God wants me to die just yet. I reach up and pull the trigger of the grenade launcher. The rifle bucks, but it's barely perceptible. I see a blue trail of light arc from the barrel of the grenade launcher to the ground right in front of the charging zombie. Then it explodes. The feet and legs of the zombie are charred deeply now. It growls and staggers toward me, much slower than before.

Dan manages to push himself to his feet and rushes at the zombie from the side. He swings low this time, taking out one knee. I riddle the other with automatic fire, and it also collapses. Then Dan swings for the head, his hammer ripping a trail of fire through the air. When it hits I hear bones crunch and the zombie's head snaps back at an unnatural angle. Then, it falls face-first to the pavement.

Dan steps back from the fallen hulk. Sweat from his forehead mingles with blood from several cuts on his face. "Well, that was refreshing…" he says, breathing heavily. He turns to me. "Yes, agreed...you win...fucking brilliant idea. Let's use the truck and get the hell out of here before another one of those damn things comes over to check out that fucking car alarm."

He starts walking to the truck but I put a hand on his shoulder. I can see more cuts now, staining parts of his white shirt red. "You're hurt," I say, "maybe badly."

"I'll live," he says.

"I can help you," I say. At least, I think I can. The wounds look too numerous to treat with my first aid kit, and there isn't time for that, but learning a new spell has given me the confidence to seek new uses for the ones I already know, like the spell that heals me by leeching _anima_ from enemies. I see the zombie hulk on the ground stirring weakly and sense an opportunity.

"Hold still," I tell Dan, then I aim at the downed zombie and fire. The round explodes, sending back an invisible wave of anima, but this time instead of soaking it in myself as I've done before, I direct it to Dan, to his wounds. His eyes go wide, and I know it's working. I fire again. The zombie goes completely still. Dan meanwhile rubs his face. Where his cuts once were there is now only blood on an unmarked face.

"What the fuck?" he mutters. "You never told me you were a healer!"

I smile. "One of my many talents. I'm also an English literature major," I say, and direct him into the cab of the pickup truck. "Come on, let's get this ammunition into Kingsmouth!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Here it is! The title of the story finally justified: a lit major shoots zombies! More to follow!

The name of this chapter is lifted directly from the title of the first quest players receive on reaching Solomon Island: a quest to kill zombies in various creative ways while on the road to Kingsmouth. I was going to title this chapter something different, but the title of the quest just seemed to fit too well. The events of the chapter, also, turned out to follow the quest rather well. In the game, however, you are not on a quest to rescue a possible survivor, you're just running around slaughtering zombies who were minding their own business, which is somehow more satisfying.

In the game, you do set off a car alarm and set off a container of gas, but both items are different than in this chapter. In the game, the car alarm only goes off for a few seconds. I wish car alarms did this in real life, too! As for the gas, it is tricky to set it off without lighting yourself on fire, especially as a new player (and especially while you're trying to set off a car alarm at the same time. Mostly I wind up lighting myself on fire by accident. Fortunately, the fire in the game is much less effective than in this chapter. It's mainly just an annoyance to players and a little extra damage that helps them put down the burning zombies just a little bit faster.

The policeman's body, the note, and the pickup with the ammo in it is all part of the game's "Bullets for Andy" sidequest. However, in using the policeman and his truck to lure Dan and Chris out onto the road, I realized that the smart thing to do would not be to take the ammo cans and try to carry them to Kingsmouth by hand (as the player does in the game), but to use the pickup truck right there. In the game, players walk everywhere because that's what the game is designed to support, but in real life, cars would be an option. It will be interesting seeing how these characters use said option.

The grenade launcher spell Chris learns is my version of "Slow the Advance," an actual move in the game, albeit one that players don't normally learn until much later.

While I'm trying not to be too explicit and graphic, this is a story based on a dark and graphic violent video game. If the descriptions in this or subsequent chapters bother you or strike you as something too strong for the "T" rating, let me know. I can always up it to M.


	7. Sheriff's Office

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Sheriff's Office**_

_Thursday, November 2, 8:08AM  
Road to Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

I see a sign on the roadside as we drive past it. _Kingsmouth Ahead_ it reads, but someone has painted a large red _D_ over the first two letters of the second word, changing it to _Kingsmouth Dead_. I shift in my seat and hope the message isn't prophetic.

We've been following the sound of gunfire towards Kingsmouth for about an hour now. It's been slow going. The little two-lane highway we're following spends a lot of time winding through the forest, and we have had to move even slower to drive around abandoned vehicles and bodies. So far we've seen no sign of Kaiyo or any other survivors. Fortunately we haven't seen many zombies either.

Even as I think that, we round a bend in the road and I see a group of zombies standing listlessly around a large sign that says _Welcome to Kingsmouth_. The zombies' heads rise as we pass, their dead eyes turning our way. I turn in my seat and take aim. I can see them starting to step towards us. I squeeze the trigger and a three-round burst puts down the first zombie. The others break into a run, charging at the pickup.

"Oh come on, did you have to piss them off?" Dan says, swerving to get out of their way.

"They were already interested in us," I say. I fire a second burst, but due to the motion of the pickup my shots go wide. I frown and flip the fire selector down to automatic, even though this strictly isn't necessary for the spell to work. I sweep the group with fire and most of them go down.

The two who don't are behind us. Dan accelerates slightly and leaves them behind, then he turns to me. "Try not to do that again, okay? You remember loud noises attract the fuckers, right? You'll bring every one of them on the island down on us with that little toy gun of yours if you don't rein in that trigger finger."

I glare at him, but then I hear something over the sound of the pickup's engine and the close-by gunshots. It's a howling sound from a forested hill to the south of us, accompanied by the sounds of hundreds of feet. I can't see anything through the trees, but I don't have to in order to know what's coming. "Zombie charge!" I warn.

"No shit!" Dan steps on the accelerator. "Sheriff's Office is just ahead." He points to a blocky building up ahead with a makeshift fence surrounding it. The road runs almost parallel to it before curving to meet the barricade. Up on its flat roof I can see men with rifles crouching, looking toward the hillside beyond the road.

_We found the survivors, now we just have to live long enough to meet them_, I think to myself and point my rifle out the window, just as the first wave of zombies comes charging out of the trees and across the road. I open fire, sweeping them. The men on the rooftop add their shots a moment later, but for every zombie we down, two more seem to rush out of the trees.

Dan tries to avoid the line of zombies at first, but then they slam into the side of the pickup. Hands reach at my open window and Dan slams the wheel over to the right. The vehicle bounces hard twice, then the front passenger side catches on something. The pickup fishtails to the left, then the rear wheels screech and kick up dust, spinning freely over gravel. "Shit!" Dan shouts.

"Stop swearing and do something!" I yell, though I'm not sure what he _could_ do. There's little enough I can do. A zombie has grabbed the barrel of my rifle, and as I try to yank it away more hands reach inside. I lean back, out of their reach, and draw a pistol from my concealed holster with my right hand. As I do so, the relentless pull of the cold grasping hands wrenches my rifle away from me. In desperation I draw my other pistol and start shooting, my guns held close to my chest. The slides hit me with sharp jabs to the ribs every time the guns recoil, but I manage not to lose control of the weapons and I kill the zombie that just took my rifle.

More take its place. They begin tearing at the door. I can hear the metal dent. Others climb up on the hood and slam bloody fists and faces into the windshield. Webs of cracks appear in the glass. _Oh, God! Why do zombies have to be so strong!_ I wonder if my shots can weaken them. At this point, it's certainly worth a try. I keep firing, imagining my bullets lodging in the zombies, sapping their unnatural strength. I have no idea whether or not it's working at first, then one of the zombies at my window manages to grab my leg and I shake it off almost effortlessly. "I've got them weakened on my side!" I announce.

"That's fucking great for you!" Dan says through gritted teeth. I turn to see him trying to wrest his hammer out of the grasp of several zombies. The hammer glows with a strange blue fire wherever the zombies touch it, burning away their flesh and they let go, but more rush to take their place.

Suddenly, there's a crackling sound. A bolt of white lightning appears, arcing between the zombies on the hood and others in the hoard. They fall, smoldering. Through the cracks on the windshield, I can see a gate has opened in the makeshift fence surrounding the building ahead. Kaiyo stands in the gap, one hand on her razor-blade pendent, the other outstretched over the group of fried zombies. More zombies charge at her and she pulls her hand down off her pendant, sharply, then opens it. Blood flows from her hand like mist, but unlike mist it seeks out the nearest zombie, entering its nose and mouth. Moments later the zombies collapses and streams of red mist flow from its own old wounds, seeking new targets. Several human survivors armed with rifles or pistols emerge from the gate behind Kaiyo and open fire on the remaining hoard, but they hardly seem necessary. I realize now why I Dan said I should have been afraid for the zombies!

I work the handle of the door with my foot and kick it open, bowling over the weakened zombies. I begin clambering out when I see a zombie charging at me. I fire automatically, as fast and as accurate as I can. I realize a second later that I'm holding my guns weird, sideways, with my wrists crossed, but it seems to somehow stabilize the shock of firing both guns together, and I can't deny the results. The unfortunate zombie falls to the ground in front of me, its head ruined.

Meanwhile, Kaiyo's blood infection has spread through most of the hoard, leaving only a handful of stragglers for the Kingsmouth survivors, Dan, or I to pick off. I leave them to it while I look for my rifle. I find it pinned under a zombie. It's still and I think it's dead—well, _really_ dead—but I shoot it once through the forehead just to be sure, then holster my pistols and carefully pull my AK47 out from under it.

Only then when the fight is over and my heartbeat is slowing, do I really see the zombie lying on the ground in front of me. He's an old man, wearing an orange wool sweater, socks and sandals, and shattered bifocals. Beneath a film of foam and blood, his face is lined with wrinkles and smile lines. _He was someone's grandfather once_, I think, _and I just put a bullet hole in his forehead._ I feel suddenly cold, and nauseous.

Kaiyo comes up beside me and touches my shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?" she asks. "You look a little pale."

"I-I just…I think I'm going to be sick!" I manage to stagger over to the embankment by the side of the road (which is thankfully free of zombies) before my stomach heaves and I double over, vomiting.

Kaiyo supports me and helps me straighten up when I'm done, producing a cleaning wipe from somewhere. She gives me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Chris," she says. "I wasn't thinking about you being new and all. Blood magic can look pretty gruesome. I probably should have held back a little."

I shake my head weakly. "No, it's not you," I say, though to be honest her blood magic _was_ surprisingly gross. Instead I wave my hand at the corpses littering the road. "It's them…me…all of this."

"It is a bit much to take in I guess," Kaiyo says. "Just try to take it one step at a time, okay?"

At this point a policeman with a handsomely boyish face comes over. "You alright, Miss?" he asks.

I nod.

"Glad to hear it," he says. "You ladies go on and get inside. We got the ammo, and the truck's not goin' anywhere for now. Wheels gummed up real good on…well, on one of them." He jabs a thumb at the zombies. "I'll have Moose take a look at it, then we'll close up again if he can't get it runnin'." He shifts his feet. "By the way, where'd you find all those cases of ammo?"

"They were in the truck when we found it. We found an officer's body beside it," I hand him the badge of Nathaniel Henry. "I'm sorry," I say.

He takes the badge from me and his face falls. His lip trembles a little and I think for a moment he's going to start crying right there. "Oh that's…that's too bad. Nathan, he…he was a good guy. A real good guy. Real swell…" He looks back up, as if just realizing we're still there. "You, uh, you go on inside," he says. "Miss Yako can show you where you can get cleaned up. I…I've got to show this to Sheriff Bannerman."

He turns and walks off to a group of survivors who are standing around the pickup. Meanwhile Kaiyo takes my arm and leads me in through the makeshift gate into the little compound surrounding the Sheriff's Office. The barricade is a segmented chain-link fence held in place by abandoned cars, sandbags, barrels, porta-potties, dumpsters, and anything else the survivors could lay hands on. Though there are several survivors still outside, the inside of the gate is guarded by a woman in a green tank-top and yoga pants with boyishly short hair. She nods at us as we come in, then continues watching the road and the forest, a large-framed Smith &amp; Wessson revolver cradled in her lap.

Kaiyo leads me past her and through what used to be a parking lot into the building itself. The glass doors are stained with smears of dried blood and riddled with cracks. Inside a couple of yellow metal police barricades create a funnel by the entrance, and a hunting rifle waits behind the nearest of them. Throughout the rest of the room boxes, couches, filing cabinets, and bookcases stand along the walls, blocking every window. Kaiyo leads me around the barricades to a small bathroom tucked into the side of the building. It's cramped and is starting to smell, but at least there are no zombies here and the water from the sink is clean and cold. I rinse out my mouth and clean my face and hands.

I'm just finishing up when there's a gentle knock on the door. I emerge to find a woman in a rumpled police uniform standing by the door. Her badge identifies her as the sheriff. "Well hey," she says. "You alright?" I nod and she motions to me. "Then come on, I need to have a little chat with you and your friends."

I follow her back to the main room of the building. There, off to one side, Dan and Kaiyo stand waiting around the only desk in the building that isn't shoved up against a wall or braced against a window. I join them and the sheriff moves behind her desk and looks us over before she addresses us. "First those fellas Boone and Wolf, then Miss Yako here, and now you two." She runs a hand through her tangled black hair. "Heck if I know where you folks keep comin' from, but anyone who walks through that door alive pretty much gets my amnesty. And after what you did today savin' that ammo, well, let's just say if something in your past colors you sourly to a badge, I'd ask you to call it quits in return. We agreeable?"

Kaiyo grins broadly and nods. I do the same, without the huge grin. Dan crosses his arms and says, "Whatever."

"I guess that takes care of that," the sheriff says. She gestures at my AK47, slung across my back. "Now I can see you're armed—leastwise two of you are and Miss Yako's got an impressive alternative. I won't kick up a fuss about it. Straight truth is, you'll need to be. Heaven knows, if there was ever a time and a place for a right to bear 'em, you're lookin' at it. All I ask is that you don't go 'round thinkin' your deputized or such, and that you share any ammo you got on you. That load you brought in helped, but the way things are goin' we're gonna be out again real quick."

She looks at me expectantly and I shift my feet, uncomfortable at being put on the spot and suddenly aware of how little I prepared for something like this. "I…uh, I can't," I say.

"She doesn't use ammunition," says Kaiyo. "Her guns shoot magic."

"Real subtle there, Kaiyo," Dan mutters.

"Thanks!" she says brightly.

"I've seen stranger these past few days." The sheriff shakes her head. "Well then, I'm Helen Bannerman, and this down-home little state-of-emergency is what's left of my jurisdiction," she says, waving a hand over the barricaded police station.

I look around me. "What about the rest of the town?" I ask.

Bannerman shakes her head. "It's pretty much all zombie territory now. Oh sure, we tried to hold as much of the town as we could, at first: more out of nostalgia than any civil defense plan. That all went the way of the dinosaurs a couple days ago when it became apparent that these walking dead didn't intend to ever stay dead, you know? Fortunately Andy and Moose got this barricade set up and we been holed up in here ever since."

"What the hell happened? There used to be fifteen hundred people here, plus a school for people with, you know, _talents_," says Dan.

"I can tell you what I've seen and heard, but that's about it," she says. "As for makin' sense of it all—Well, I don't mind telling you this makes no damn sense to me, much as I hate to be the one drawing a blank on Final Jeopardy." She puts her hands on her hips. "It all started about three days ago. I was up at the old lighthouse down by Dagon Bay, checkin' in on Sam Krieg—Maine's bestselling export."

"Sam Krieg?" I repeat. The name sounds familiar for some reason.

"Oh, yeah," she says proudly. "_The Lighthouse_, _The Undead_, _The Resident Horror_, _Marked_…all that. He's no Steven King, but he's close enough. Over a hundred million copies sold, they say." She smirks. "Surprised? Well, we do our fancy book-learnin' 'round these parts, too."

"Sorry, I'm not really into horror," I say. I don't think I'll ever be, especially since now the horror stories would seem too much like real life.

"Can't say as I am neither," Bannerman admits. "Never cared much for the stories, nor the man himself: wavin' a rifle around in a dressing-gown, juiced up, heck of a disturbance of the peace!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure he's an ass," Dan says and makes a rolling gesture with his hands. "Could we move along? The local apocalypse won't wait forever and the people I work for have a right to know why."

"And just who do you work for, if you don't mind me askin'?"

"He's with the—_Oww!_" Kaiyo cuts off as Dan elbows her sharply.

"That's for me to know, you to not find out, understand?" Dan says. "All you need to know is that my client is buddy-buddy with the DoD, the CIA, the CDC, the NRA, NPR, and Disneyland. You tell me what I need to know, and maybe—just maybe—you won't be any more fucked here than you are already."

Bannerman huffs. "Figures. I was never invited to the midnight meetings at town hall. Guess I'm all thumbs when it comes to the secret handshakes."

Dan snaps his fingers impatiently.

"Right, right! So there I was, up in the old lighthouse with Mr. Sam Krieg, right? Then this fog comes in, black like ink—like somebody's fountain pen up and exploded. It covered everything. We could watch it from up on the lighthouse. I was lucky to be there, I guess. When it rolled out, most of the folks were gone." She shook her head. "Sam said it was 'goddamn manna from heaven' and wanted to write it all down. I left him magnuming that opus and high-tailed it back to town, started takin' stock of our situation. We got a few folks holdin' out around town and across the island. A few tried to leave and that…that didn't end so well, judgin' from the screamin' we heard. The fog's still out there, circlin' all 'round the island like a prison. Nobody else has tried to leave since."

"And the zombies?" Kaiyo asks.

"They came the next morning," the Sheriff says. "All those folks that went out with the fog came back the next day, only they came back well, dead—err, undead, if you get my meaning." She shakes her head and looks down. "That fog and the things that came back from it, they didn't pick and choose when they came in. Most folks didn't stand a chance."

"What about survivors?" I ask.

"I'm keepin' a list here," she says, tapping a multi-page computer printout tacked to a bulletin board behind her desk. It's a list of names and addresses under the header _Known Survivors_. Some of the names are checked off, maybe a couple dozen. Others have been crossed off and a few remain unmarked. "Check means we found 'em and they're alright, no check means they're still at large, and, well, you can guess the rest."

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. There must be nearly fifty names crossed off on that list.

"I've only seen eight of you here," Kaiyo says. "Where are the others?"

"We got 'em holed up around town an' west along the highway," she says. "There are a few safe places. Red's shack at Tolba Bay, the Innsmouth Academy, the Wabanaki Indian grounds—those should still be safe. We got some holdouts elsewhere to, people who get by on their resources even if their location ain't so good. Henry has his Word of God, that Rogêt woman has her crystal ball, and Norma out on the point's got a 12-gauge. They were all there and fine last I checked and I'm an optimist. You ask me who wins, undead hoard or Norma Creed, and my money's on Norma."

"Have you heard anything more specific on the situation at Innsmouth?" Dan asks. "My client has…sensitive interests there, if you take my meaning."

The sheriff shrugs. "Can't say as I have. I visited 'em when this all started, and Mr. Montag gave me the usual run-around and sent me off. You know, private boarding school, with an emphasis on _private_."

"I guess I'll just have to check it out myself," says Dan.

Kaiyo brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "You might want to rethink that," she says. "Remember all those zombies we just killed outside? They'll be back up in a few hours."

"Yeah, and if you're planning on striking out of town, Kingsmouth hospitality dictates I gotta set you right," says Bannerman. "I need you to keep this on the low-down, but there's worse out there than our undead problem. Worse than anything that shuffles on two legs, that's for sure."

"What sort of things?" I ask.

Bannerman shrugs. "I'm about as pleased as can be that I didn't catch a better look. Could be the kinda thing that gives a nightmare nightmares, if you know what I mean. You wanna stay in the light, keep out of the trees, out of the fog. The town's dangerous, sure, but the road's worse, as you found out, and from what I hear things have pretty much gone to hell on the other side of the tunnel to the southern coast."

"It would be a really bad idea to strike out on our own without knowing more about the situation first," I argue. _Also, it would leave these people completely defenseless_.

Dan glares at me, then bows his head and says, "Fuck! Fine, I'll stay for now, but once we get an idea what the fuck is going on in this place, I'm heading to Innsmouth."

"Aww, worried about the little prep school that the Illumi—_oww!_" Kaiyo teases, till Dan elbows her again.

"To tell the truth, I'd be mighty obliged for you stickin' around," Bannerman says, ignoring the exchange. "Miss Yako here's right about the nature of our zombie problem. Once down, they won't stay down, and we'd appreciate some help once they get back up. Also, we got ourselves a supply problem. That ammo you brought in was a godsend, but we're goin' through bullets like candy at Halloween. Also, we got all these folks as good as locked in here—and no sleepin' it off for the morning either. We tried to bring what we could when we fell back behind the barricades but, well, we got a lot of mouths to feed and grocery shoppin' wasn't exactly a priority."

"You mean you're out of food?" Dan hides his head in his hands. "Fuck me, the zombie apocalypse is here and I'm going to starve to death."

"Well, Andy finds what he can, but honestly we need him here, and with the police cruisers stuck proppin' up the barricades, well… Let's just say the way things are headed I see us outlasting our supplies, though not by much, if it comes to that."

"What can I do?" I ask.

"If you can do it without gettin' hurt, poke around town a bit and bring back the essentials. Canned food, ammunition, first aid, and a little hardware to keep everything running," says Bannerman. "We can call it _requisitioning_. I don't think the store owners are gonna be writin' this one off as an act of God."

"Great," Dan says sarcastically. "You go grocery shopping, we'll deal with the zombies."

I ignore him. "I'll see what I can find," I promise Bannerman.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The time in this episode is based on the in-game time in my screenshots as I completed this level. In the game the road to Kingsmouth is long, but not nearly so long that it should take over an hour to drive, even slowly. The in-game clock is just fast.

The _Kingsmouth Dead_ sign is in the game and also features in the loading screen for the Kingsmouth area. The layout of the land south of the Sheriff's Office is also fairly true to the game, though the huge hoard of zombies stampeding off the hill is not (that would _not_ be a fun surprise for a new player!).

Several skills from the game feature here. Chris demonstrates the pistol skills "Magnum" and "Shootout"—the first of which allows basic pistol attacks to weaken enemies and the second is the one that involves holding hands crossed wrist down while firing both guns. In real life with real firearms this would probably be a terrible idea (_DO __NOT __TRY __ANYTHING __YOU __READ __IN __THIS __STORY __AT__ HOME!_), but it works in the game. Kaiyo demonstrates a couple chain attacks, "Electrical Storm" and "Infection." While the portrayal of the first is fairly accurate, "Infection" has nothing to do with a homing blood-mist, it simply causes a damaging red line to jump between enemies, but I didn't think that looked cool enough, so here you go. In game, much to my delight, these attacks really are extremely effective against the "Returned Townie" zombies players encounter in Kingsmouth. "Electrical Storm" is pretty much a 1-hit-kill for up to 5 zombies and two shots of "Infection" have a similar effect and can easily be landed before the zombies can come within range for their own attacks. The game also has a number of NPCs around the Sheriff's office (including one that looks sort of like the woman described cradling the revolver) who function to protect the area for players, engaging and killing any zombies who pass into their range.

There are some differences of course. Sheriff Bannerman's dialogue is pulled from her introductory cutscene, her cutscene for the "Supply Run" mission, and several of her in-game dialogue options, but there are other differences as well. The number of survivors is probably the biggest. In game there are 4 interactable NPCs in this area (Dr Bannerman, Sheriff Bannerman, Andy, and Moose), one policeman on each of the compound's two gates and two more on the roof, an armed civilian at each gate plus two more in the parking lot and two more sleeping inside, and finally one patient that Dr Bannerman is working on for a total of 15 survivors. The Illuminati mission report for "Supply Run" indicates that Kingsmouth's pre-Fog population was 1,547 and that they estimate 98% of the population was turned into zombies. That makes for only 30 survivors of the Fog, most of whom are accounted for as living NPCs in the game in town, leaving practically no room for out-of-town survivors in that figure or for the dozens of bodies littering the streets of people who avoided being turned into zombies only to be killed and eaten by them. Because of that and for the simplicity of having fewer characters to deal with, I lowered the number in the Sheriff's Office to something more manageable.

Sam Kreig is a character in the game that players meet later and the titles of his books are taken from the quest "Life Imitating Art," where players interact with several of his novels. While Bannerman brushes off the connection to Steven King, I personally think it's there, and not just in the character of Kreig. There are several references to King's work, including the name of the town (_Kings_mouth, the Overlook Motel later on in the game, etc). Kingsmouth also contains streets named "Lovecraft" and "Poe." That of course brings us to Innsmouth Academy (Innsmouth, Massachusetts was the setting for one of Lovecraft's stories), which in game is a preppy boarding school secretly run by the Illuminati.


	8. Supply Run

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

**_ Supply Run_**

_Thursday, November 2, 9:58AM_  
_Sheriff's Office, Kingsmouth, Maine_

* * *

I empty my backpack and Sheriff Bannerman locks up my things in the safe behind her desk. It's the best solution. I can't very well carry back any supplies I find for the Kingsmouth survivors if my backpack is stuffed with all my luggage. I feel almost naked without my things, though—well, there is one thing I don't miss. I hand it over to Bannerman before she closes the safe. It's my first aid kit. "You'll need this more than I will," I say.

"You sure? It gets mighty rough out there," Bannerman warns.

I nod. My anima-leeching spell will serve me far better than bandaids. The survivors will have more use for them. "I'm sure," I say.

Bannerman shrugs. "Alright," she says. "I'll make sure this gets to the Doctor, and don't think we aren't grateful." She pauses. "Anything else you need before you go?"

"Just two things," I say. "The first is to make a couple phone calls, somewhere private."

"That bathroom where you washed up's about as private as we got right now, and if you can get a signal out to whoever sent you, more power to you. Every phone or radio in town just gets static ever since the Fog rolled in," Bannerman says. "What's the second thing?"

"I need to know where I'm going," I say. "Is there a Wal-Mart or a grocery store…"

Bannerman cuts me off with a chuckle, then shakes her head. "Sorry if I wasn't clear before, Miss, but we are out in the sticks here. We got a few local places, but the nearest supermarket's on the mainland, and well…ain't no gettin' there till the Fog's cleared up! Your best bet's to check the local yellow pages and see who'd have what we need, then go there."

She points to a payphone on the wall, with a phone book underneath it. It also happens to be right next to the place where Kaiyo settled down after our talk. She has that big leather-bound book open in front of her and she's reading from it, mouthing words that don't look like English, or any other language I recognize. From that and from the unfocused look in her eyes, I'm pretty sure I don't want to disturb her right now.

"I'll, uh, I'll just make that call," I say, and head into the bathroom. I close the door behind me and pull out the phone, dialing Sonnac.

Again, he picks up on the first ring. I begin to realize just how high of a priority my mission is. "Chris," he says. "I presume you have more information."

"Yes, but I'm not sure how much it helps," I say. "Kaiyo, MacFadden, and I have relocated to Kingsmouth's sheriff office. There're eight survivors here, and they need our help."

"This is not—"

"A rescue operation, I know," I say. "But, sir, these people are innocent. Couldn't we evacuate some of them?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible," says Sonnac.

"But—"

"I'm not trying to be difficult, Chris. I hope you appreciate that. But at the moment there is no where for any survivors of Solomon Island to go. The only way on or off of that island, as far as we know, is Agartha. Its paths are not open to the uninitiated, those who have not been touched by magic. To them, the portals to Agartha simply don't exist," he explains. "They are trapped on the island, and there is nothing we can do to save them apart from discovering what has happened on the island and how to stop it. Do you understand?"

I lower my head. "I understand," I say.

"Good," says Sonnac. "Are those eight survivors the only ones you've located so far?"

"Yes," I say. "Most of the townspeople seem to have been turned into zombies." I then relate the story of the Fog that Sheriff Bannerman told us. I also tell him about the zombies we encountered on the road, including the huge one Dan and I killed.

"An excellent, if macabre, report," Sonnac says when I'm done. "Unfortunately it really only confirms what we already know. It seems Boone's earlier assessment was spot on: something brought that black fog to Solomon Island, and whatever it was is still around. Finding it is your top priority. I'll have our researchers looking at the particular varieties of undead you mentioned, as trying to decipher the identity and _reason d'être_ of this black fog. In the meantime, I would definitely suggest avoiding contact with it."

"I will," I say quickly. I have no desire to find out what the Fog does or whether or not I can survive it! "The survivors have asked me to help them gather supplies," I add after a moment. "I promised I would."

Sonnac sighs. "Aiding the locals in the face of the inevitable…"

"Sorry, sir, but I _did_ promise," I say. "I try to keep my promises."

"No, it's quite alright," Sonnac says. "Your tenacity is admirable, though perhaps a bit blue-eyed. However, as you have no leads at the present, aiding the locals is quite permissible. It may also give you a better idea of the town's layout and current situation. In other words, provided you're careful about it and don't put it before your mission in priority and import, it cannot hurt."

"Thanks," I say. Something about what he said about having no leads bothers me though. "There was something Dan mentioned when we were talking to the Sheriff. He asked about a private school called Innsmouth Academy. From the way he talked, they had close ties to the Illuminati and his boss was curious about them."

"Yes, the school is not unknown to us," Sonnac says. "Definite Illuminati ties, though not an official part of their organization. It's doubtful that Innsmouth is the epicenter of this tragedy, however. They have been the center of several occult disasters before, on a smaller scale, and the Illuminati reaction has always been swift and direct. Now, however, they are as uncertain and blind as we are. Some other secret of theirs, buried on the island, has more likely come back to haunt them. Nevertheless, it is as good a lead as any, if explorations of Kingsmouth itself turn up nothing. If you like, I'll pass the information along to your brother for further research."

"I'd like that very much," I say, "though I'm not sure how Micah will react to receiving a text from a Templar."

"If your confidence in him is any indication, he'll handle it quite well," says Sonnac. "Besides, it's high time we made more direct contact, and gauge his interest in the Secret World. There is something I wanted to send to you, however, if you still have your send-box."

"I still have it," I say. It's locked up with the rest of my stuff, but I still have it.

"Good, I'm sending you a piece of equipment you should find useful," says Sonnac. "It seemed appropriate, given the sort of opposition you've encountered so far—a classic weapon for the apocalypse, you might say. You should find it there shortly after this conversation ends. I won't keep you longer. Be careful."

"I will be," I promise, then the call ends. I put my phone away and come back out of the bathroom. I go looking for Sheriff Bannerman, so I can get back into the safe to see what Sonnac sent me. If it's something specifically for zombies, it should definitely be helpful.

I find Bannerman standing beside a doctor in a white lab coat with dark brown hair. She's helping him unroll bandages from my first aid kit while he prepares to change a bandage wrapped around a black-haired man's muscular torso. I clear my throat. "Um, Sheriff, could I get into the safe again? I, uh, forgot something," I say.

She smirks, then pats the doctor's arm, assuring him she'll be back in a minute. She follows me back to the safe and helps me open it. "What'd you need?"

"Just this," I say, pulling out the wooden send-box. It's heavier than it used to be. I open it up, careful not to turn the key, and gasp. Inside is a black, 12-gauge shotgun, a stockless tactical model which I don't recognize. There's also a note. _The Brigadier tells me your work with a shotgun was impressive, for a beginner, and I am certain you shall grow to be an expert quickly. Best Regards, R. Sonnac._

"You were just keepin' that in a box?" Bannerman asks, arching an eyebrow.

"I forgot about it," I lie, removing the shotgun and closing the box again. I let the Sheriff return it to the safe while I turn my attention to the payphone. Kaiyo has gone, so I can get at the phone book now. "I'll start looking for supplies now," I tell Bannerman.

"Be careful out there," she says, then she leaves me to return to the doctor.

I grab the phone book and open it to the yellow pages. Emphasis on _pages_: there only seems to be a half dozen of them, and that's including sections under the headings _Blue Mountain Historical District_, _Savage Coast Recreational Area_, and _The Mainland_. The section for Kingsmouth businesses and services consists of exactly two pages, and only one side of each of those pages is used—even counting several sizable ads and generously large print. And I thought _my_ hometown was small!

I search through the entries. _Flagg's Pharmacy _seems like a good place for restocking the survivors' medical supplies, since I'm sure my first aid kit won't last them very long. It's on Main Street. I look for other entries on Main Street. There's _The Soup Kitchen_ and _Sunshine Deli_, as well as _Susie's Diner_. All of them look like good prospects for scavenging food. There's also _Call of the Wild_, which could be a restaurant—the entry is kind of ambiguous. The bottom of the page has an ad for _Creed Bros. Hardware Supplies_. I'm sure I could find something there useful to helping keep the barricade up.

The question is: where is Main Street? I rifle through the phone book and a map falls out. It's a large full color map of Solomon Island with whimsical illustrations depicting the locations of various points of interest. For example, the Sheriff's Office of Kingsmouth is depicted as a giant silver badge perched in the corner of the town. The overwhelming majority of the island's buildings seem to be clustered in three blocks bordering Fletcher Bay. I look at the street names. According to this, I'm on the corner of Solomon Road and Arkham Avenue, and Main Street is the third street down along Arkham Avenue, right next to the church. That shouldn't be too difficult to find.

I fold the map carefully and tuck it into my pocket. I check to make sure both my pistols are in their holsters and throw my assault rifle over my shoulder, on top of my empty backpack. Then I cradle my new shotgun in my hands and head back outside.

I take a moment to orient myself. On the map, Solomon Road seemed to be the name of the highway Dan and I came in on. Working off that assumption, Arkham Avenue should be on the opposite side of the survivors' compound. I wander over in that direction and find a gate in the barricade guarded by a black policeman armed with an M16. He nods to me. "Going out?" he asks. I nod and he opens the makeshift gate with one hand. "Sheriff told me to expect you. Be careful out there, Miss!"

I mutter something in acknowledgement as I step through the gate. In all honesty I have to admit that I'm too nervous to know what I just said. I try to remind myself that I've faced down dozens of zombies already this morning, but none of that was alone. Also the woodlands are somehow more familiar than the town full of strange houses and shops I now find myself in. There are white picket fences framing pastel-colored Victorian homes with yards full of orange leaves. Here and there storefronts blend seamlessly into the community. It seems like this was a nice little community, but still the sort of place where a tourist like me could get easily lost.

Now the beauty is just a scab over a horrible ugliness. I remember what the Sheriff told us, about how most of the people who lived in those houses followed the Fog into the sea and came back as zombies. I can hear them, a cacophony of strangled, inhuman screams echoing through the deserted streets, seemingly coming from every direction at once. For all I know, they are. I advance slowly, shotgun ready and eyes scanning everything.

A raven pecks at a jacket-covered corpse in the middle of the street. I step around it and the bird continues pecking, ignoring me completely. A little further down the road I pass a white sedan that's crashed into a light pole. Further on there's a red pickup truck sitting abandoned in an intersection. It's as I'm approaching the truck that I see my first group of zombies. It's a large group, nearly a dozen. Half of them are standing around or shuffling listlessly while the others claw and chew at something down on the ground beside an abandoned motor-scooter: probably the motor-scooter's owner. There's nothing I can do for their victim now. They stand just past the intersection and the truck, some of them straying occasionally into the street. I don't want to confront that many zombies—not alone. I stop on my side of the intersection, watching them, but they don't seem to be aware of me. I pull the map from my pocket and consult it. Kingsmouth seems to be laid out like a grid in this part of town, and according to the map I'm at the intersection of Arkham and Lovecraft Lane. I check the street signs and they agree. Looking back at the map I see that Lovecraft joins up with Belmont Avenue just before reaching the bay, and that I can go one block over on Belmont to reach Main Street—without having to go past this group of zombies.

I fold the map carefully, check the zombies once more (still no reaction to me), and then turn down Lovecraft Lane, down the hill and toward the sea. I get my first glimpse of the Fog from here. It doesn't seem like much from here, just a really dark fog down on the horizon, looming over the waves: creepy, but not terribly unnatural. I don't focus on it, though. There are still zombies in this part of the town. Stepping around a Cadillac that crashed into a tree I notice a trio of zombies feeding on a mutilated corpse in someone's yard. There's a white picket fence between them and me, though, and they don't seem to notice me. I continue on down until I reach the corner, where Lovecraft Lane and Belmont meet. An abandoned sleek red sedan partially blocks the intersection, compelling anyone who wishes to pass on toward Main Street (like a certain English-lit-major-turned-Templar) through a space only a couple yards across between the car and a white picket fence. That space is filled with zombies. Two of them are fighting over a dismembered arm, tugging on it and screaming at each other while the third shuffles in slow circles. I could hop the fence to try and go around them, but the way the circling zombie stops and turns its dead eyes on me as I approach tells me that such a sudden movement would surely draw the zombies' attention. I tighten my grip on my shotgun. I'm going to have to fight my way through this group.

Gunshots echo from the Sheriff's Office a block and a half away, but the zombies in front of me don't react. _They're attracted to noises, but only over a limited range_, I realize. That explains why the small hoard Dan and I caught in a gas explosion didn't react to me shooting up the first group of zombies I met. It also gives me hope. If I gun down this little group on the street corner, the other zombies up the street probably won't even notice.

I step closer to the trio of zombies on the corner and the circling one's eyes lock on me. It makes a gurgling, growling noise and the other two drop the dismembered arm and turn toward me. All three of them charge. I quickly remember my shotgun training. I angle the barrel toward the ground and fire. A wave of flame rolls out of the shotgun, engulfing and charring the zombies' legs. They howl, hands clawing the air, but they can't reach me and their legs can barely move. I cock the shot gun and blast each zombie in the head in turn. As the last one falls I look quickly around, checking for other zombies. There are none. I step past the corpses of the three I killed and the abandoned car and find myself on the street overlooking the bay.

That's when I _really_ see the Fog. It stretches as far as the eye can see over the gray waters of the ocean. The Fog itself is not just dark, it's black, and I can see…threads of something even darker racing through it as it slowly swirls, waiting. I shiver and turn away. Somehow even the undead townspeople are less intimidating than that deep, swirling blackness that obliterates the horizon.

It's not far from the street corner to Susie's Diner. The building is unmistakable, chrome-plated roof shining in the autumn sun. Cool rock music rolls from the open door. I think I recognize the song: "Devil in Disguise" by Elvis Presley—my Dad's a fan. It looks exactly like a 50's-style diner in my home town, except Susie's has a giant cutout sign featuring neon lobsters mounted on top of the roof. I see no sign of zombies, though, so I enter carefully.

The smell hits me first: the rancid stench of rotten meat. Inside the diner the door to the bathroom has been ripped from its hinges. Inside everything in the tiny room was smeared with blood. I shiver and scan the rest of the room, but aside from a few broken windows and an overturned barstool the rest of the room looks normal. On the diner's sound system, Elvis is just finishing one of the choruses of "Devil in Disguise," starting into the quieter main verse. I step further into the abandoned diner, wondering whether the owner would have kept her canned food stores in the back or behind the bar.

That's when I hear the scratching noise, the sound of something cutting, the sound of greedy chewing. I hadn't noticed it until the music became softer, but now fear makes the sound ring in my ears. There is a zombie somewhere in this diner with me. I tip-toe forward, turning slowly around. The chorus begins again, covering any sound of my advance. Then I spot her, and I freeze. The zombie is behind the bar, crouched possessively over a body in a shredded and bloody uniform. She isn't like other zombies I've seen. She's tall, long limbed, her blue jeans and orange jacket clearly too small for her frame as it is now. Her hands don't end in death-pale fingers, they end in gray two-inch talons. Her back is toward me and she seems to be absorbed in her meal, but I can't trust her to remain that way forever.

I glance down at my shotgun and give a small shake of my head. I don't want this zombie getting anywhere near me, and I'm not as practiced with the shotgun as I am with my other weapons. I lay the shotgun down on one of the padded barstools just as Elvis starts singing "Blue Suede Shoes." I reach back and grab my assault rifle. I can't count on one quick burst putting down this zombie, so I decide it's time to see if I can repeat my grenade-launcher spell from earlier. By the time Elvis sings "go, cat, go" I have the grenade launcher angled toward the zombie and my _anima_ is focused. I pull the trigger. Blue light arcs at the zombie and explodes. It screams, raising its charred limbs to its face before turning to me. Its lone, dead eye regards me with menace as it rises to its feet more quickly that I would have thought possible. There's no time for hesitation, though. I shoulder my rifle and open fire. My shots make the zombie stagger. It tries to scramble over the bar but the burns and my repeated three-round bursts cause it to fall back behind the counter. It gives a shrill scream, so piercing I almost have to cover my ears, then it starts going around the bar where there's a gap for employees on the far side. Its long strides swallow the distance. I try for a headshot, but miss—it's moving too fast! The zombie comes around the corner and starts coming for me, arms extended, talons ready to shred me. _Oh-God-oh-God!_ my thoughts race in frantic prayer. I fire again, only a few yards away. This time my shots hit. It's not a clean forehead shot like I'd wanted, but the _anima_ rounds rip through the lower half of the zombie's face and into its neck. Its body goes limp and falls sideways, slamming its head against a table on its way down. Then it's on the floor in front of me, body motionless, but its lone eye still swiveling in its socket, paralyzed, but not dead (or _re_-dead in its case). I flip the selector to full-auto and fire a long burst into the undead horror's forehead. After that, it's completely still. For a moment, I sigh in relief.

The moment is quickly over. In the next instant, four zombies come charging in through the opposite door, running straight at me. I wonder if it was my shots that summoned them or the high-pitched scream of the long-limbed zombie did that. There's no time to sort it out now and there's certainly not time to pick them all off with my rifle. I let it drop and grab my shotgun, firing the flame spell at the tile floor in front of the zombies before the shotgun's even fully off the barstool. The zombies charge turns into a limping contest. I pump the shotgun and pick them off with headshots. When the last of them falls I check the door to the back room (locked) and close both the outside doors, finally satisfied that I'm alone in the restaurant.

I set the shotgun down on the bar, within easy reach, and start looking through the cabinets behind the bar—doing my best to ignore the gruesome remains the long-limbed zombie was eating. There's some canned food back here, preserved fruit mostly. I unzip my backpack and pack in as many of the cans as I can find. It's only a little over a dozen, but its more than enough to make my backpack heavy when I put it on again. _This should last the survivors a while_, I think. _At least, I hope so_. I pick up my shotgun again and exit the diner through the far door, coming out on Main Street.

Across the street, I can see the sign for "The Call of the Wild." Metal shutters protect the storefront but a zombie has managed to peel one of them back and gotten itself stuck halfway through the window. I stow my shotgun temporarily in the tight space between my laden backpack and my back and switch to my AK-47. The zombie twitches as my shots slam into it. It starts to withdraw itself only to take my second burst in the back of the head. It topples to the sidewalk. I go over to find out what it thought was so interesting. The only things I see through the shutter is a pair of ammo cans. The lights are off inside the store. "Is there anyone in here?" I call, but no one answers. I'm unwilling to try entering the store lest I become stuck like the zombie did…or have a zombie sneak up behind me…or find out that whatever's lurking in this store is worse than the long-limbed zombie in the diner. Instead I load one of the ammo cans into my backpack (filling its main pocket) and carry the other by hand, leaving me with only one free hand to operate my shotgun. It's not ideal, but I know the survivors will need every bullet I can find.

I head up the street, passing several restaurants, including _The Soup Kitchen_. It might be worth revisiting these places on a future supply run, but for now my backpack is stuffed. When I come to the storefront of Creed Bros. Hardware Supply I decide to take a peek inside, just to see what's available for future scavenging. I set the ammo can down by the door and reach for the knob. The hinges give the screech of un-oiled metal, followed by some kind of loud ratcheting sound. I cringe. I poke my head around the door, hoping I didn't just disturb some zombie waiting for me inside. I don't see one. Instead I see a large rusty engine standing behind the door, its gears grinding. It appears to be the actual source of the ratcheting sounds.

Then I realize that the rusty engine is standing on two thick metal legs, and equipped with two metal arms. One of those arms ends in a buzzsaw. Then the saw starts spinning up and the arm starts moving. I cry out and jump back just in time to avoid a slashing attack from the mechanical arm. The saw cuts into the wood before the door is tossed aside, leaving an opening for the rusted robot to walk out onto the street. I point my shotgun at the ground in front of it and fire off a wave of flame, hoping to slow it down, but the flame rolls harmlessly off rusty metal plates. Then I see a lighter ignite at the end of the robot's other arm, in front of a nozzle that leads to a gas tank. Too late I realize I'm not the only one trying to use fire in this fight.

I manage to jump back, but it's not enough. The sweep of the flamethrower catches me. I feel agony across the whole front of my chest. I don't have to look to know I'm on fire. I drop my shotgun and wriggle out of my backpack. I fall to the asphalt, rolling to put out the flames. Looking down I see that most of them are out, but a few tongues of fire linger. I swat them out with my arm. The end result is that I'm extinguished and alive, but I can see my skin is charred on the right side of my chest and my left hand is red and blistered. All of it hurts more than words can describe, which is saying a lot, coming from me. I feel like screaming and crying, but I hear the robot stomping toward me and I remember the Brigadier's training. It doesn't seem too realistic at all now.

I grab my AK-47 one-handed out of habit and aim it at the advancing automaton. I have no idea if this spell will even work on a robot, but I have to try. If I don't, it'll finish me. I fire an explosive round, and to my surprise get back a wash of _anima_. I direct it to my wounds while I scramble to my feet, firing again and again. Sparks fly from the inside of the motor with each hit and the robot's advance is hesitant. That gives me the time I need. I feel _anima_ tingling across my body, healing my burns. By the time the robot is close enough to use its flamethrower again, I am ready. I roll along the road, under the sweeping flames. The robot tries to catch me with its buzzsaw arm, but the spinning disk bites into the asphalt instead. By the time it turns back around, I already have my shotgun up and gripped in one hand. I infuse it with a slug of fire and aim it at the fuel tank for the robot's flamethrower. "Your turn," I growl, then I pull the trigger. Like it did in practice, the shotgun kicks hard enough that it flies from my hand, but unlike in practice the fireball it spits out here is enough to punch through the robot's fuel tank and ignite it. I jump back and shield my face as the gas explodes, leaving the robot flaming, smoking and sparking. It stands there for a moment longer, its engine sputtering, then the gears grind to a halt and it topples in the middle of the street.

I stand up and quickly retrieve my shotgun, backpack, and the ammo can I left by the door. I don't dare go inside the hardware store, lest another one of those things is inside waiting for me. As it is, I seem to be alone in the street, which is good. I take stock of the damage. My hand looks fine and my skin is only a little pink and tender where I burned it on my chest. My favorite black-and-white striped hoodie, however, is a goner. A large hole has been burned in the fabric, and in my shirt beneath. My bra is toast, too. I groan and silently wish my healing spell fixed clothes too.

My first instinct is to cover up, so I don't have a nipple hanging in the breeze. Flagg's Pharmacy probably has some cloth bandages I could use as a makeshift bra. I try the door, but it's locked and I don't especially want to try blasting the door open only to find yet another horror waiting inside for me. _Just go back to the Sheriff's Office and change there_, I tell myself. _It's the zombie apocalypse, no one is going to care if you're showing a little boob_.

I leave Main Street and start heading back to the Sheriff's Office along Arkham Avenue (whoever named these streets had a strange sense of humor). The group of zombies I'd avoided earlier near Lovecraft Lane are all gone now, and I'm grateful. It means I have a straight shot for the Sheriff's Office. I tuck my shotgun behind my back and cross my right arm across my breasts, holding what remains of my hoodie closed. It may be the apocalypse, but I still want to keep my modesty.

The gate opens in front of me and I head for it at a trot. Then suddenly the black officer behind the gate shouts, "Get down!" and points his rifle at me. _Not at me, at something behind me!_ I duck. The rifle cracks twice. A zombie behind me moans and falls, not more than two yards away. I had no idea it was even there.

I grab my shotgun and scan the street for more, but I don't see any. I turn around quickly and hurry through the gate. As the officer closes it behind me, survivors gather around. Dan is among them. He gives a wolf-whistle and grins. "Fuck yeah! I dig the new look, Chris-babe!" he yells.

I cross my arm across my chest quickly and give him a glare that says, _Once I'm done changing, I will end you_. He doesn't seem to get the hint and merely laughs.

"Hey, let's all—let's all just give Miss Warden some space, okay?" says Deputy Andy, stepping between me and Dan. "It's the end of the world and all that, right?...So, accidents happen." He looks around the crowd. "Somebody give her a coat!"

A heavyset man with a graying beard peels off an army jacket, padded and covered in that new digital camouflage. He hands it to me, keeping his eyes on mine and not…on other things. I accept it. "Thank you," I say.

"You've risked your life for us twice, little lady," he says. "Least I could do."

I turn my back to the crowd, facing the barricade, and set down my backpack and the rest of my gear, changing into the surplus coat instead. It's much too big for me, but with the sleeves rolled up it's manageable—and with the front zipped up there's nothing for sick Dan MacFadden to gawk at!

I turn back around to find that Andy is already leading the survivors in going through the supplies I brought back, ferrying them into the Sheriff's Office mostly. As they work, the Sheriff herself comes out to greet me. "Made it back, and in one piece, too," she remarks, smiling at me. She turns to watch one of the survivors trundle past with a load of canned food. "Quite a haul, too. That should leave us set up well enough for the present."

"Glad I could help," I say. "Is everything still alright here? Have the zombies we killed on our way in started coming back yet?"

"They're re-animating one at a time, so it's no big problem," Kaiyo says brightly, skipping through the parking lot to join us. "We just send Dan out there to whack 'em on the head and then we're good for another half hour or so."

"We could just as easily send one of the survivors with a shovel," Dan grumbles.

"But that wouldn't be as fun to watch!" Kaiyo says, grinning mischeiviously. Then she turns to Bannerman and her face becomes serious. "Miss Sheriff, if you don't mind, the three of us need to talk. In private."

* * *

**Author's Note:** As far as I'm aware, the game never overtly says that normal people can't use Agartha, though there seem to be several hints of this, and it does explain neatly why none of the factions are interested in even trying to rescue survivors from Solomon Island (well, it's part of the explanation: the other part being painfully clear to anyone who's completed the sidequest "That'll Leave a Mark," or tried to complete it, in any case).

Sonnac's dialogue is taken from his reply to the player's report after "For a Fistful of Zombies" and "Supply Run." The shotgun Chris receives is "12 Gauge," the QL 1 shotgun players can pick up as a reward for completing "For a Fistful of Zombies." Shotguns, of course, are the traditional weapon of the zombie apocalypse!

Sonnac references Innsmouth's troubled past. The school has been rebuilt three times over its history, at least once due to an occult disaster on grounds ("an accidental application of dimensional portals along the then theoretical "Escher Curve" [which] destroyed the elementalism lab," according to the lore). That Illuminati players aren't immediately herded that way probably indicates that the Illuminati are somehow aware that the school is a victim this time, not the cause.

Several missions require the player to check the phone book in Kingsmouth. Each mission depicts the same page from the yellow pages of the phone book (the business section) which lists pretty much every business in the town itself. It consists of a single two-page spread. All of the businesses listed in this chapter exist in-game, but "Sunshine Deli" and "The Soup Kitchen" both exist only as non-interactable storefronts. Players never see the inside of any of the other Kingsmouth stores either, with the exception of Susie's Diner. The other stores only have one or two interactable objects in front of their store for use during certain missions whereas the diner has a full interior.

The map Chris finds is meant to be the in-game map, which does have a sort of touristy feel to it, with points of interest depicted with illustrations. Of course, Chris has the full map of the _island_ whereas players can only access the map of one zone at a time. You can find player-combined maps online, however, and they seem to line up neatly enough.

The in-game town of Kingsmouth varies little from what I've depicted here. The main difference (aside from the large number of player characters roaming about, killing zombies for quests and sport) is that in game the zombies are much more evenly distributed, with groups of "Returned Townie" zombies been found in groups of 3-5 every 20 ft or so. All the places where they appear in the chapter are places they appear in game. I did inflate the size of one of the groups in order to force Chris to hit up Susie's Diner first. This is the progression of the in-game mission "Supply Run," but without a mission tracker to guide her to that specific restaurant, Chris probably would have hit up one of the other restaurants on Main Street first. That particular group of zombies at Arkham and Lovecraft (yes, the street names are real) does have a greater tendency to go after players, however, perhaps because its located so close to a main thoroughfare.

Chris' tactics for many of the enemies she encounters in this chapter are pretty much my real in-game tactics. She uses the skills "Kneecapper" (the wave of fire), "Pump Action" (basic attack), and "Out for a Kill" (the fireball attack used on the robot). These are spells Chris learned in the previous story after seeing them demonstrated during her Tokyo dream (players actually do get to use these three skills extensively during the Tokyo subways tutorial). In game I find "Kneecapper" followed by spamming "Pump Action" into a group of Returned Townie zombies tends to kill them off very quickly. If you catch all the zombies in the area of effect of "Kneecapper" you can even kill them all (as Chris does) before they come close enough to strike back. Throwing in the pistol passive "Coup de Grace" (which causes enemies to heal all of your allies near them on death) means that even if they _do_ manage to touch you, the player can end the fight at full health anyway.

There are a number of enemies that can be encountered inside Susie's Diner, including "Susie's Diner Cook," "Suisie's Diner Patron," and "Susie's Diner Waitstaff," and "Susie" herself. These seem to spawn randomly and only one will be there at a time. Each time, they will be found gnawing on the body behind the counter. Susie is the largest and most powerful of these, looking pretty much like she does in this chapter. However even she can be felled with a combination of "Slow the Advance" and "Safety Off" (Chris' three-round burst attack). Some can even be killed by the detonation of "Slow the Advance" itself. In game Susie does not have the ability to summon additional zombies (though the game has various kinds of "Ripper" zombies which do have this ability), but there's a cluster of zombies just outside the door on Main Street which players exiting Susie's Diner on that side will most likely be attacked by, and in game I did manage to get myself jumped by them right after finishing a fight with "Susie's Diner Cook" (I have fought Susie herself, but not on my first time in the diner).

The robot guardian of the hardware store is a real part of the quest, I swear! It's the "Jury-Rigged Protector" that attacks players on attempting to enter the hardware store during the quest. I was baffled by the presence of such an enemy in the middle of the zombie apocalypse at first, but now that I know more about the history of the Creed family, I think it makes more sense. Hopefully it will in time to you, too. In any case, yes, it totally has a flame thrower, and because it appears suddenly behind players who are concentrating on interacting with an object at the time, it will more than likely get to light them on fire and/or cut them. This can make it a challenging fight, and no, Chris' demonstrated stop-drop-and-roll tactics will not work in game.

Also, in-game fire damage has no effect on player character wardrobes. I debated the wardrobe damage in this one. I did want to update Chris' wardrobe at some point, but at the same time I didn't want clothing damage to be the rule of the day, and I didn't want people to think I took the same approach to my heroine here as Dan. However, going back over the action sequence I didn't see any other possible outcome. She clearly receives at least second and probably third degree burns across a significant portion of her chest. No flammable clothing covering that area would have survived (either that, or she wouldn't have had such bad burns). I did debate letting her keep the bra, but it wasn't made of asbestos, so in the end I couldn't justify it to myself.

The black policeman is one of the non-interactable NPCs at the Sheriff's Office in game that protects it from constantly-spawning zombies (much like in his second appearance in this chapter). The other survivor, the heavyset man who gives Chris his jacket, is not in the game—though his jacket is. The jacket is the "Frontline Jacket" and is rewarded to players for unlocking all inner-circle rifle abilities. Chris hasn't done that here yet, but it seemed like a convenient opportunity for her to update her wardrobe.

I apologize for this chapter taking so long! Thank you all for your patience!


	9. Teamwork

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

**_Teamwork_**

_Thursday, November 2, 12:35PM_  
_Sheriff's Office, Kingsmouth, Maine_

* * *

While Kaiyo talks to the Sheriff about where the three of us can have a private discussion, I go to change. Andy opens the safe for me and I retrieve the white, button-up blouse the Templars gave me and a bra—my only bra now. I suppose I could always ask Sonnac to send me a new one, but asking my employer for replacement underwear isn't exactly something I'm comfortable with at this point.

I lock myself in the bathroom and change. The old blouse is no great loss: it's the same one I was wearing during my final exam by Lethe and was already ruined by a hole and a large bloodstain on the lower right-hand side, in the back. The hoodie, however...I sigh. Half the front is gone to charring. There's no way it's salvageable. I'm extremely lucky that only the corner of the map in the hoodie's pocket got burned. Sadly, I fold the old black-and-white striped hoodie up and place it tenderly in the trash can. _Goodbye old friend_, I bid it. _You were warm and comfortable, and I loved you._ Then I turn away and finish dressing, putting on the borrowed over-sized army coat again (the blouse is too thin to ward off autumn chill outside). As I unlock the door again, I wonder wryly how I'll face a real loss, if I can get this sentimental about an old, sorta-ugly jacket.

When I come out of the bathroom, Kaiyo and Dan are outside waiting for me. Kaiyo grabs my hand. "Come on! Dan found us a place where we can talk privately!"

"Couldn't we just use the bathroom?" I ask, confused.

"Girls go to the bathroom in packs, not Illuminati," says Dan. "Besides, it's bugged."

"It's _bugged?!_" I say, eyes wide.

Dan rolls his eyes. "This is practically Illuminati Island," he says. "Lots of places are bugged."

"But I just changed in there!"

"Lucky break for whoever's watching then." Dan smirks. "Maybe I can get him to send me the videos."

"Do and you're dead," I warn, gritting my teeth.

"Can't we have our talk first?" Kaiyo asks, eyes pleading. Dan rolls his eyes and lets her take his hand with her free one. Then she leads us both outside and around the side of the building, under a wooden exterior staircase. There's a gap there where we can all stand between the makeshift barricade and the Sheriff's Office. Once we're all there, Kaiyo lets go of our hands, turns and tucks a strand of raven hair behind her ear. "Okay, now we can get started!"

Dan waves his hand impatiently motioning for her to continue.

"I wanted us to talk about working together," says Kaiyo.

"We are working together," says Dan. I nod in agreement.

"I mean _really_ working together," says Kaiyo. "I mean, right now, Chris wants you dead and you're being all cagey with secrets and stuff."

"I don't _really_ want him dead," I say, and it's at least mostly true—though I admit the prospect of him being in pain does cause a certain morbid satisfaction.

"I'm being straight up with you," says Dan. "I don't know anything you guys don't already know."

Kaiyo bites her lower lip, with a notably pointed tooth, and says, "Alright, if you guys don't want to play, then I guess I'll keep everything I've learned from talking with the survivors all to myself!" She closes her eyes, crosses her arms, turns, and starts to walk away.

"Hold on!" Dan says. "Maybe I was exaggerating…there are a few things I know."

"And?" Kaiyo prompts.

"…and I'm willing to share them," Dan mutters.

Kaiyo smiles and turns to me, eyes expectant.

"I promise not to kill Dan," I say, and I mean it. He may be an enormous irritant, but I don't want him dead. When Kaiyo keeps looking at me, I add, "I also won't let him die or get hurt, if I can help it."

"Good enough, under the circumstances," Kaiyo declares.

"Hey, what about you?" Dan asks.

"Oh, well, I promise not to kill any of you unless I have to," says Kaiyo. "And I'll share anything important I find out."

"Those promises seem...a little lax, by comparison," I say.

"Yeah, who's to say what's important?" Dan says.

Kaiyo wrinkles her nose. "Good point. I guess I'd just use my own judgement…unless you think the unusually dark color of the ichor in these zombies is important. Do you? I thought it might be due to contaminants, but it could also be post-mortem clotting interrupted by a reanimation spell of the Eturian Family, possibly an Aderastrium variant mixed with something more primitive and potent. According to my spellbook, it also contains about two orders of magnitude more erythropoietin than normal blood, which is probably due to drowning. And then there's the flavor—"

_Oh, God!_ I interrupt the tirade by putting a hand on the Japanese girl's shoulder. "Why don't you just use your judgment?" I suggest quickly.

Kaiyo grins at me. "Okay!"

"So, what did you learn?" Dan asks, then quickly clarifies, "Anything _important_?"

"Only a little," Kaiyo says. "I talked to the survivors and asked them, you know, how they _survived_. Turns out about half of them were like the Sheriff, out of reach of the Fog when it came, some physically and a few, like the doctor, were in places that must have been warded or had some other kind of protection, like the Wabanaki Indian grounds. All four of the others were in the fog and said they heard this sort of whispering that got into their heads and made them want to walk into the sea."

"But they resisted it?" I ask.

Kaiyo shakes her head. "A couple of them waited it out in the jail cell here in the Sheriff's Office. A guy named Bill Dexter was being put in for drinking when he and Deputy Jackson heard the whispers. The policeman was smart enough to lock himself and the other guy in and throw away the keys before the Fog got to him. The others let them out after the Fog passed. Then there was this biker, Moose, Deputy Gardener saved his life by throwing a rope around him and dragging him back to the Sheriff's Office."

"So how'd Gardener make it out?" asks Dan.

Kaiyo shrugs. "Not a clue. He said he heard the whispers, but they didn't affect him like they did the others." She purses her lips. "There's something strange about him…his blood smells _different_."

I'm about to ask how she could possibly know what his blood smells like, but then I decide I don't really want to know. Instead, I decide to report my own findings. "The Fog's still out there, just beyond the harbor. It doesn't look too weird until you get closer up, then there are these…tendrils moving though it." I shake my head and try not to shiver. "Whatever it is, it's not natural."

"No shit," says Dan. "Anything else you'd like to share, babe, like what caused your _wardrobe malfunction_?" He winks at me.

I glare at him. "I got burned by a robot with a flamethrower, alright? Leave me alone, and don't call me _babe_!"

"A robot? Like a mecha?" Kaiyo asks.

"More like a rust bucket, and not much taller than me," I say. "It was guarding the hardware store in town."

Kaiyo glances at Dan but he shrugs. "Don't look at me. We had nothing to do with this."

She glances back at me. "You said you got burned? Are you alright now?"

I nod. "I used a spell to drain _anima_ from the robot and heal my burns. I just wish it healed my clothes too."

"Hmm…there's probably a way to do that," Kaiyo says. "But that it worked at all on a robot is interesting."

"There are plenty of _anima_-powered robots," Dan counters. "My boss had me recruit a guy once who built a dozen of 'em and killed his whole fucking family."

"You _recruited_ him?" I say.

"Of course we did! We keep him hopped up on drugs, but the kid's got talent," Dan declares. "Point is, it's not all that uncommon. Pretty much anyone with enough mechanical and magical aptitude could've built one rusty guard-bot with a fucking flamethrower."

"But do you know of anyone here in Kingsmouth with that kind of power?" Kaiyo asks.

Dan frowns. "Can't say as I do, not outside of Innsmouth Academy anyway."

"And what about Innsmouth?" I say. "Why didn't you tell us about it sooner?"

"Wasn't important," Dan answers casually. "Sure, we got an alarm from it, but it was just a general alert for a perimeter breach from the outside. No clue has to what it was or how it got there. The Academy's as much a fucking victim as the rest of this island."

It lines up with Sonnac's theories, but I cross my arms, pretending to be unconvinced. "Anything _else_ you want to share with us? You know, before we figure you're holding out and decide to leave you to the zombies?" I wouldn't really do that, but the last thing I need is him bringing up some other conveniently forgotten fact—like the bathroom being bugged—when lives are at stake.

"I'm not leavin' anything out, I swear," Dan says. "We had a few places warded, like the Academy and the church here in town, but no idea if the wards held. We had a few places bugged, like the Sheriff's Office here, but all those bugs went offline when the fucking Fog rolled in. I only restored the one in the bathroom while you were out grocery shoppin' and playin' with robots." He smirks at his own joke, then continues. "There's the Idol of Nergal, but—"

"The Idol of Nergal is here?!" Kaiyo says, suddenly leaning forward. "Where is it? I've always wanted to—"

"It's in a cave somewhere, behind Illuminati wards that have got to be under a shitload of stress. There's no way you're going near that thing!" Dan says. "Last thing we need is someone like you bumping the wards over the fucking edge and this thing summoning undead all over the place, supposing it isn't already."

"Wait, this idol summons undead?" I glare at Dan. "Why didn't you tell us this before?! It could be the whole reason the Fog came here in the first place, the explanation for the whole zombie apocalypse on the Island!"

Kaiyo blinks and gives me a startled look. Dan also seems surprised. "What? No, you got it all backwards! The Fog isn't Negral's style."

"He's right," Kaiyo says. "Negral is the ancient Akkadian god of the underworld, or a demon, in your religion," she says to me. "In any case, he lost all his worshippers a few millennia ago and didn't deal with it very well."

"Went fucking paranoid," Dan explains. "Thinks the _world_ is out to get him and that stupid rock he's bound to, so whenever he can he summons undead Mesopotamian warriors from hell-knows-where and forces them to guard his sorry ass. Made for one hell of a début when we presented the find to the Council of Venice."

"Negral doesn't have the power to control anything like the Fog or even to make zombies out of local corpses," Kaiyo says.

"And even if he did he'd have them all standing around his fucking cave on fucking guard duty, not running around the island trying to kill off survivors."

Kaiyo nods and waves a hand at the island and its evident horrors. "He can't be responsible for all this, but he _is_ famous. He's even mentioned in the Bible!"

"And you're _not_ meeting him for so many reasons!" Dan insists. "First of all, living dhampir vs wards only meant to stop the fully undead. You'd short 'em out! Second, if you think Negral's crazy paranoid right now that's nothing next to the shitstorm of insanity you'll get if you put that stupid idol of his in the room with a dangerous monster like you. No offense intended."

Kaiyo smiles, and her grin shows a pair of pointed incisors behind her lips. "None taken," she says brightly.

Suddenly, there's a rap on the wall near the stairs behind us. We turn to see the Sheriff standing there next to a long-haired, bearded man in a black leather jacket. "Pardon me. Mind if we interrupt for a bit?" she asks hesitantly.

Dan glares at her and I'm a little preoccupied trying to figure out what all she heard, but Kaiyo smiles brightly and says, "Sure thing!"

"Thanks," Bannerman says. She gestures to the big man next to her. "Moose here managed to rig up a PA system and had a few parts left over. I thought you could help."

"I've still got four hundred-foot CCTV cables in good condition. I figure we rig up a few cameras at strategic places, and we got ourselves a genuine early warning system to complete this makeshift fortress of ours," says the big man, Moose—if that's really his name. "That'd free up some people from standing watch, and it would give me a chance to work on putting together an offense for these zombies."

"Don't tell me you want me to run fucking wires for you, man," Dan says. "I'm a man on a mission from a very important agency, not some shit electrician's assistant."

"_I'll_ run the wires," I volunteer, glaring at Dan.

"Actually, it's not the runnin' of wires we need, though that'd be mighty helpful. What we're missing is the cameras," says Bannerman.

Dan shakes his head. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Afraid not," says the Sheriff. "It sure wasn't in our yearly budget to put the town under martial law! No, the good ol' boys on the council were all about thrifty spending—at least above the table. Can't say as I ever got invited to the midnight meetings at town hall. Reckon I must be all thumbs when it comes to secret handshakes." She pauses. "Point is, the police department couldn't afford 'em, but some private businesses got some for security and I've got a list. We take their cameras and re-purpose them, we can make this work. Problem is gettin' out there and back. That's where you three come in."

"No, I'm not a fucking errand boy," says Dan.

"Aww, come on! It'll be fun!" Kaiyo says. "And think of the advantage this would give us! You wouldn't have to wait around here, bashing the same old zombies over and over again. Besides, I'm sure your boss would love to see the videos. _All_ our bosses would." She gives him a conspiratorial wink and dodges his attempt to elbow her in the ribs.

"I'll go," I say. "Kaiyo and I can handle it ourselves."

"And you can set up the surveillance system on the computers here," Kaiyo suggests to Dan. "You're good at that right? Computers? Surveillance?"

Dan glares at her for a moment, while she gives him a hopeful grin with head cocked and eyes wide. One fang is also visible between her lips. "Fine. I'll do it," he says at last. "Just stop giving me that look. It's fucking creepy."

Kaiyo just laughs.

"Just make sure you forward the surveillance to _everyone_," I say.

He winks at me. "Anything for you, Chris-babe."

I grit my teeth. Somehow that's more annoying than when he was swearing at me and calling me a noob.

"I'll get the cables set up," says Moose. "They'll be ready to roll out when you are."

Sheriff nods then waves to us. "Miss Yako, Miss Warden, let me show you the list I got."

We follow her back out under the exterior stairs and into the Sheriff's Office, where she opens up the phone book on the wall to the local yellow pages and circles three businesses: _Kingsmouth Savings and Loan_, _Sycoil Gas Station_, and the _Franklin Foundation Mining Museum_. "Four cables, but only three businesses," I remark.

"The Savings and Loan and the Gas Station only got one camera each, but the Museum's got a few to spare. You should be able to find plenty in good working order between the three of 'em," says Bannerman.

I nod and open up my map. "The Gas Station and the Mining Museum are both on Belmont Avenue, which runs along the harbor."

"Yeah, the Gas Station's just at the corner of Elm Street and Belmont, right down this road straight outside," says Bannerman, pointing over the barricade. "Museum's right next door. Savings and Loan is down Lovecraft, not too far from the Museum on the other side."

"Hmmm…why don't we split up?" Kaiyo suggests. "I'll go down Lovecraft, you go down Elm, and we'll meet in the middle."

I'm not very keen on splitting up and potentially facing another unexpected and terrifying opponent alone, but I'm even less keen on spending a lot of time out there hunting down cameras. I fold up the map and grab my backpack (which is once again empty). "Let's get this over with," I say.

We go to the gate again. The black policeman (who I presume is the Deputy Jackson that Kaiyo mentioned) unfastens the chain and lets us out. Kaiyo goes skipping straight down Arkham Avenue toward a small pack of zombies while I turn right to reach Elm Street. I cut through a yard with brown, bloodstained grass. Its white picket fence has been torn up to be added to the barricade, which completely blocks off this end of Elm Street and is made up of everything from road signs to deserted vehicles. There's even a rowboat propped against the fence to shore it up.

Elm Street itself is eerily deserted. The street slopes gradually down toward the sea, and nothing moves on it. Picturesque houses line the road, some even with Halloween decorations and carved pumpkins already out, but there's evidence of the disaster. Several sections of white picket fence have fallen. Halfway down the road I see a blue sedan that has been driven over a parking meter, through a fence, and into somebody's porch. Some steam is still rising from the crumpled hood, but I don't hear the engine running. I do hear zombies though. Their gargled screams echo down the street. I keep my shotgun out and ready.

A little further down from the wrecked car I find the first group of zombies. There's a body, still vaguely recognizable as that of an older woman, bent over a picket fence. A couple zombies are tearing at the bloody dirt on either side, stuffing it into their mouths, as if completely unaware of the corpse hanging between them. I avert my eyes, fight down the urge to gag, and continue down the street.

The slope becomes steeper here and I catch sight of Belmont Avenue, and the gas station. It's a large, square white building with a rather ugly yellow trim, made even more ugly by the evident smoke damage. All the windows are completely blackened with soot and gray smudges trace their way upward from every door, window, or vent from which the smoke may have escaped. The building inside must be completely gutted. I sure hope the camera wasn't in there. I sure hope it wasn't around back either. There are a group of three zombies loitering by the dumpster there.

I walk up cautiously to check the front, where a large, thick, flat metal canopy covers the gas pumps. Or what's left of them. The cause of the fire becomes evident now. There's a white sedan, badly fire-damaged, sitting in the remains of one of the gas pumps. The other pump is still standing, but everything but the frame and pipes have burned or melted away. The entire front of the station is scorched black by what must have been a terrifying fireball. I see another trio of zombies by the street, just past the end of the canopy. They're feeding on something, or someone—possibly an unfortunate victim of the blast.

Something on the canopy catches my eye, though, and I go a little further down the street, till I'm almost at the corner. Then I see it: the camera. It looks like it's intact, and it's mounted on the very front of the metal canopy, overlooking Belmont Avenue. I bite my lip. There's no way to get to it from here…but I bet if I climbed on top of the dumpster I saw in the back, I could get onto the roof pretty easily. The only problem is the zombies.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, reminding myself of how many zombies I've already killed today. I've lost count, actually, and that makes me somehow more uncomfortable. I remember the old man's body I saw after the fight at the Sheriff's Office, and that all of these zombies used to be people like me. _Well they're not anymore_, I remind myself then, marching toward the back of the gas station. _They're never going to laugh or cry or smile again: they're just undead monsters who want to kill you and every other living thing on the island and chew you up with their broken teeth._ That thought, and the realization that getting this camera will help the survivors of Kingsmouth stay alive, gives me the courage to come around the corner firing.

The zombies in the back don't last long. They seemingly had no idea I was there until my first shot charred their legs. Three quick blasts later they're all lying on the ground, but I have another problem. I can hear choked screams from the front of the gas station. The other zombies have been alerted. I try to scramble directly onto the dumpster, but it's too high. There's a green recycling bin next to it, though, that's shorter. I try that, clambering on top and then stepping up and over onto the lid of the large dumpster.

Then the zombies come, running around the corner and waving their arms. I'm too far off the ground to use a wave of flame from my shotgun to stop their advance, so I toss my shotgun onto the tin roof behind me and grab my assault rifle, sweeping them with automatic fire. That seems to slow them down. On scrabbles at the dumpster lid, trying to reach me, but I back away, up against the wall, and fire a burst down into his head. The other two are running back and forth in front of the dumpster, seemingly unable to make sense of the obstacle. I fire an _anima_ grenade between them and the blast causes both of them to topple.

I don't wait around for more zombies to show up. I climb up onto the tin roof and grab my shotgun. Even in late September, the metal is a little hot to the touch. I stand up on it and move quickly across the roof to the metal canopy. I can see a couple things out there. One is an ammo can, opened, with some shotgun shells scattered around it. The other is a large black hole in the canopy directly above where the car crashed. From this angle the canopy definitely looks hollow, supported only by a thin steel frame. I step out onto it gingerly, and only because the shotgun shells tell me someone else has been out on it before and it was able to take their weight—though of course, there's no sign of them now.

I collect the shells and put the ammo can in the bottom of my backpack. It's very heavy, but still manageable. There's a shotgun too, a Remington 870 like my Dad's only stockless. I check it, but it's empty. It still might be of use for the survivors, though, so I tuck it in beside the ammunition and ease out further onto the canopy.

At the edge, I look down and see the camera, mounted on a stand set into the corner. I'm going to have to undo the screws and pull it off of there without taking a fifteen-foot fall. I pull my Swiss army knife out of my pocket and lay carefully down on the edge, then scoot out till my head and arms are hanging over the camera. I pull out the little screwdriver from my pocket knife and begin carefully loosening the screws while trying very hard not to think about where I am. This becomes increasingly difficult when I get to the third screw holding the base to the metal canopy, because this one is underneath the stand, just out of my line of sight. I have to feel what I'm doing with my fingertips while keeping hold of my pocket knife in one hand and the camera and its stand in the other. Losing either at this point would be a disaster.

Finally, the last screw comes out and falls to the pavement (I managed to grab the other two, but after losing the third I decide it's not worth the hassle). I pull the camera up onto the canopy with me. It's wire trails after it, keeping me from taking it any further. Since Moose said we already have cables, I decide I don't need it. I detach it from the base of the camera and stick the camera, stand and all, in my backpack on top of the ammo box. Then I hurry off the canopy and back down to level ground. I would sigh in relief if not for the zombie corpses around me.

I head across the street, to where the map says the Mining Museum is. From this side, it looks more like a big house with a parking lot next to it, but once I'm close enough I see a large sign outside that reads _Franklin Mining Museum_. I also see Kaiyo Yako standing over the smoldering corpses of four zombies. She smiles at me. "Took you long enough! Did you find a camera, or build one from scratch?" she teases.

"It was on the roof, on an unstable and hot awning," I say, brushing the front of my jacket off.

"Well get ready, 'cause there's another roof you'll have to climb," she says, pointing to the second story of the Museum. There a security camera is mounted on the wall just above the slanted eves of the ground floor's roof, watching over the entrance.

I groan. "I hate heights," I confess.

Kaiyo smirks. "Fine, I'll get it. You stay here and check out the ground floor. See if you can find where they're keeping the other cameras."

I nod and head inside. The Museum's doors are wide open and the inside is a mess. A mining cart display has been knocked over, as have the postcard stands in the small giftshop. When I try to go upstairs I find the landing completely blocked by an overturned table and a jumble of other furniture pieces beyond that. Clearly zombies, or something else destructive, were in here, but there's no sign of them now. I check the main floor, but see no other security cameras, or any type of storage. There's a metal door marked with blue, peeling paint that might lead to some sort of storeroom. I try it, but it's locked. I decide not to try forcing it until Kaiyo gets back.

Fortunately it's a short wait. A moment later Kaiyo drops to the ground outside the doors, landing in a perfect crouch. She springs back to her feet and comes running inside, waving a yellow sticky note. "This was on the camera," she announces, handing it to me.

I read it aloud. "Josiah: this is the one that needs changing. Have it done before I'm back from Bangor. New cameras are in the basement. Make sure to fill out a repair form and file it with the museum admins. Signed, James Morris, FMM Janitor." I drop the note. "I guess that means the one on the roof is busted. Let's hope the Museum had two spares down in the basement."

"And the basement is?" Kaiyo says, looking around the open first floor.

"Behind this door, I guess," I say, pointing to the locked blue door. I have no idea where else it would be. "Stand back!" I point my shotgun at the lock and ready a fireball. Kaiyo steps behind me and covers her ears. I fire and the deadbolt shatters, falling inward. Then it's simply a matter of turning the handle and walking down the stairs.

The basement is unfurnished, with bare concrete walls and exposed steam pipes. Bare bulbs provide the only illumination, but at least the lights are on. Then I see something rising from the shadows at the end of this corridor, a man in a tar stained white suit. Then the smell hits me, a rotten smell like sludge from the bottom of a dumpster. It triggers memories. That isn't tar on his shirt. A moment later, I see his face, completely covered in glistening blackness while black tendrils, like horns, wriggle from the sides of his head. _Filth!_ I remember that word, and men like him from the Tokyo nightmare. It's all I can do not to scream.

Kaiyo stops beside me, glancing from me to the man and back again. She gives me a questioning look, but I'm only half aware of it, frozen by fear. I raise and cock my shotgun automatically, like Sarah from the nightmare, preparing to meet the Filth-man's charge.

But he doesn't charge. Instead eyes like smoldering coals lock on me and he begins to whisper. "You should go away now…you should go away! B-because I'm not feeling very stable right now." Then he turns and runs down a side corridor.

"Chirs?" Kaiyo says slowly. "What was that about?"

I glance at her, then check the direction the Filth-infected man ran. No sign of him, but he'll be back. I force myself to look back at Kaiyo for the moment and answer her question. "That man's infected…with the Filth. Don't let him touch you and watch out for any tendrils on the floor or walls or ceiling. Don't let them touch you either."

"Filth?" Kaiyo asks.

I cannot believe that there's something about the Secret World I know that she doesn't, but neither can I deny what I saw in that dream, or that the condition of that man is exactly like that of the zombies—except that he isn't trying to kill us with oil-black claws…yet. "It's…uh, it's something I saw, in a vision, I guess you should say. I think it was at Tokyo."

"You were at Tokyo?" Suddenly Kaiyo looks at me almost in awe.

I shake my head quickly. "No, but I saw it in a dream. The point is, we have to be very careful, and we mustn't let this guy touch us."

"If you say so," Kaiyo says. We advance cautiously down the corridor, till we get to the hall the man ran down. I see him there, a little ways down the hall. His hands glow with an unearthly bluish light and he waves his arms bonelessly in the air, mimicking the tentacles undulating from his skull. I point my shotgun at him and start to advance, but Kaiyo puts her arm out, blocking my path. She's surprisingly strong. "It's a trap," she says. "Can't you see them?"

"See what?" I ask.

"Oh, sorry, I keep forgetting humans don't see infrared. There are lasers up ahead, about ankle height. They could be rigged up to an alarm, but I think it's something a little more nasty," she says, then starts advancing slowly. "Follow my lead and move as I move."

"Shouldn't we take care of him first?" I ask pointing my shotgun at the Filth-infected man.

Kaiyo sighs and shakes her head. "That's typical Templar thinking. _If it's not human or on your side, blast it._ He's just minding his own business. Let him be, unless you think he'll help us." She looks up and shouts at the man. "Hey, Janitor-_san_! Do you know where they keep the extra cameras down here?"

The man makes no response but to whisper, "Go away…go away…" in a haunting, sing-song voice.

"Yeah, didn't think so. Come on." Kaiyo takes the lead, proceeding carefully down the hallway. She pauses several times to step over some unseen obstacle. I'm very careful to follow her movements exactly when she does, making sure I step over the exact same places. It makes for slow going, but eventually she turns to me and says, "We're clear. There's another bunch of lasers up ahead though. We'll have to find a control panel of some sort to shut them off. I don't particularly want to find out what they trigger."

I look toward the infected man, standing several yards down the hall behind the unseen trap, but he's still in his own mad, Filth-infected world. I would try to take him out now, before he becomes a threat, but I don't want to risk my shots setting off whatever trap he's prepared for us. I turn instead to a side room. I can hear the quiet whirring of electric motors inside. That's at least an indication that there's some sort of power, maybe a control panel.

We move inside the storeroom. There are wooden crates everywhere, most stacked up on metal-framed shelves five or more feet high. Looking to the right I see a panel of some sort, mounted just above a five foot shelf. It looks like a keypad. "That could be it," Kaiyo says, advancing toward it. "Now, if I use a precise enough electrical spell…"

I walk beside her but something stops me. There's a buzzing in my brain, like angry hornets, only I don't think they're angry, more afraid! I look up and see a security camera pointing right at us. The buzzing intensifies and I feel like I'm looking down the barrel of a loaded gun instead. "Look out!" I shout, grabbing Kaiyo and throwing her and myself backwards, out of the camera's line of sight. A moment later there's an explosion as a fireball bursts from the camera lens. Wooden shrapnel litters the floor. Some pieces hit me, but my jacket is well padded and they don't hurt me.

"Wow, subtle trap!" Kaiyo says, wriggling out from under me and brushing herself off. "I almost didn't detect it."

"You _knew_ it was there?" I ask, disbelieving.

"Well, sorta, like in-the-back-of-my-mind sort of know, you know?" She helps me to my feet. "I was a little too caught up in picking the right elementalism spell to realize I was about to be the target of one. Thanks!"

"You're welcome." I say. I see another security camera on the other side of the room, swiveling slowly on a motorized mount. "I'm guessing that one's rigged to kill us, too."

"Yeah, my thought is avoid all cameras at this point," says Kaiyo. "Hopefully we find a box full of un-enchanted ones at the end of this that we can use."

We pick our way around the periphery of the room, using the crates and shelves as cover to stay out of the cameras' line of sight. When we do cross open ground, we're careful to be sure the cameras are swiveled away from us. Eventually, Kaiyo reaches a stack of crates she's able to climb up onto to get to the control panel—without having a killer security camera pointed at her. She reaches an open hand toward it and miniature lightning bolts arc from her fingertips, dancing delicately across the keypad. Thin tendrils of smoke rise from the panel and the cameras stop swiveling. The whirring of their motors dies and the buzzing at the back of my brain goes silent. "I think you've disarmed them," I say.

"Hmm, subtle and hard to say," Kaiyo mutters. She pulls that giant leather-bound book from her backpack and mutters something in a language I can't understand. A moment later, she shuts the book and shoves it back in her backpack. "Yup! That did it! You could sense the _anima_ from the trap and the disarming, though. That's kinda impressive."

"I…thanks," I say. That's probably the first time someone has really complemented me on my powers. I raise my shotgun and change the subject. "Let's deal with the Filth-infected man and see if he left us any cameras we can use."

Kaiyo nods and jumps down from the shelf, humming to herself. I can tell she's not as carefree as she seems, though: her right hand closes around her razor-blade pendant the moment she hits the ground. She skips through the doorway while I make my way around the crowded shelves of the storeroom. I'm just rounding the final corner when it happens: the Filth-infected man comes out of nowhere and lunges at Kaiyo.

I shout a warning, but I know I'm too late. The man's hands end in Filth-black talons. He claws at Kaiyo. She gasps, but has only time to pull her hand down off the razor blade and open it. Fortunately, that's enough. Tendrils of blood like veins branch out from her open palm and form a scarlet barrier between her and the Filth-man. His claws rake off the shield in a spray of red. I wonder how long Kaiyo can keep the shield up, or if that alone will kill her!

I'm not about to wait to find out. I drop my shotgun—there's too much risk of hitting Kaiyo. The rifle, similarly, will be a liability in these closed spaces. I pull open my jacket and draw the pair of pistols. I open up with alternating shots from the pocket .45s. _Anima_ slugs slam into the Filth-creature, and I make sure each one saps his strength. He swings again at Kaiyo, but misses. Then he turns to me and gives a blood-curdling shriek. He charges, talons extended, eyes _literally_ flaming. I remember the charging zombie outside the Sheriff's Office, the very first I took down with my pistols. Without thinking, I cross my arms again and work the triggers as fast as I can. Impacts shred the Filth-man's head, then his whole body begins to dissolve into a puddle of smoldering ooze on the floor. I stand over it for a second, pistols ready, before realizing that it's over.

"Nice save," Kaiyo says, and I look quickly at her, afraid I'll find her in a pool of blood on the floor. But to my surprise she's standing in the hall, grinning, with no blood at all on or around her. If not for the cut on her right hand, I would have thought I imagined everything. "Blood shield," she explains. "Angelic Aegis, technically. It's not a fun spell when you have to cast it really suddenly like that, but it's saved my life more than once. I'll be fine in a minute."

"You wouldn't have had to cast it at all if I'd shot that guy the second I saw him," I say ruefully. I holster my pistols and pick up my shotgun before stepping around the pool of goo—and black-stained clothes—that are all that remain of the infected man.

"I'm generally against killing people unless it's for fun or a really good reason, but in future encounters I'm gonna have to agree with you: Filth things are kill-on-sight," Kaiyo says, helping me past the puddle. "On the other hand, though, you can't blame yourself, Chris. You only saw this Filth stuff in a dream. You didn't know…which reminds me. As soon as we're here there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Who? A survivor?" I ask.

"Yup!" she says. "I found her holed up in the basement of this house while I was waiting for you. She does stuff with dreams and visions and stuff. You should see her. Her room as a treasure trove of magical things—cheep magical things, a lot of them knockoffs, but still magical."

"Let's concentrate on getting the cameras for now." I see a large metal box at the end of the hall. It's partially open. I carefully use the barrel of my shotgun to open it the rest of the way, in case it's a trap. Instead I'm greeted by the sight of two pristine security cameras lying in foam padding at the bottom of the crate. They're even still in their protective plastic bags with brief instructional fliers in the bags with them.

Kaiyo grins. "Score one for Team KCD!" she says, scooping them out and putting them in her backpack.

"Team KCD?" I repeat.

"Yeah, that's us!" she explains. "Kaiyo, Chris, and Dan…or maybe YWM for Yako, Warden, and MacFadden, but that just sounds too formal."

I smirk. "I didn't know we had a name."

"Every great cooperative effort deserves a name," Kaiyo says brightly. "And we _are_ working together on this, after all!"

"I guess we are," I say. She puts on her backpack and starts skipping back down the hall, toward the basement door. I'm about to follow when I a motion in the shadows catches my eye. There's a box there, with a large egg inside. Small, black wriggling tentacles reach from the broken top of the egg, as if feeling for a new victim to ensnare. _Filth_. I glare at it. I guess this is how the survivor in the basement got infected. _You're not spreading any further, and you're not infecting anyone else!_ I point my shotgun at the Filth-egg and hit it with a fireball at point-blank. The box goes to burning pieces and the egg is gone, replaced by a small smoldering puddle of ooze. I check to make sure that was the only one and then, and only then, do I turn to follow Kaiyo. She's standing at the intersection with the main corridor, looking back at me. "Just finishing up," I say.

"Typical Templar," she says, and smiles at me. Together, we leave the basement behind.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Just a quick, public reply to some of your awesome reviews. Thank you all! I appreciate the support and your ideas!

_ ArachCobra:_ Yes, I skipped the end of the "Supply Run" mission in chapter 8, and we will be seeing the end of that in a later chapter. It ends in a run to the firehouse, and since "Death and the Instruments Thereof" also takes characters there, I figured I'd do them together. Naturally you cannot do it this way in the game, but in writing I don't like to repeat scenes if I can help it. You'll notice I also left off the end of "Horror Show" in this chapter. That was in part because the chapter was already pretty long and I'd reached a good stopping point, and also because watching someone who's afraid of heights struggle to unscrew a security camera from the top of a semi-stable 15' canopy is exciting, but watching that same person screw it into a lightpost while standing securely on the ground is not. Neither is watching them "press 1 to activate surveillance camera." It'll be alluded to, but I always found getting the cameras was the fun part anyway.

_ Goretooth: _No need to apologize. I'm also one of the ones running around killing zombies for sport. I even do it as _Chris_, for all the roleplay-breaking that entails. They are delightful to destroy. Among my other vices is following players during the last phase of "Elm Street Blues" and pretending I'm their support (well, I _do_ heal them). I've even done this once while perched on the canopy of the gas station, which Chris would _really_ not be comfortable with (a pity that, it's an excellent vantage for using an assault rifle). It does seem like there should be a way to work around the Agartha-_anima_ problem, but then again maybe there isn't—at least not one that might not do as much harm as good. Kaiyo can travel Agartha by birthright as a mythical-creature hybrid, but Dan's ability came from grabbing a dangerous magical hammer he now has to keep with him at all times and Chris' gift destroyed her apartment and her life. Still seems like there should be some kind of third option... The ammo suggestion is good, and I may be able to sneak it in there. I've already established no-shells as a sort of trademark of Chris' magic, though, so I'm going to leave her that. The Bees/the Buzzing is/are overdue for an appearance. I have a plan for working them in as regulars, but it'll take a few chapters. That being said, one thing I like about TSW is that generally you have to solve the missions with little or no extra help from the game. Even the waypoints it gives you are probably things you could figure out yourself by looking at a map. I like that realism and I hope you enjoy watching Chris solve these puzzles too. Also, Kaiyo's backpack may or may not be a PDI, but that would be TMI, wouldn't it? ;)

_ Jouaint:_ Thanks! Thank you for reading!

And now to this chapter. There's a continuity nod at the beginning to Chris' new clothes she got from the Templars in _Lit Major Shoots Lightning_ and to events of the final chapter there. Also, I _did_ establish that jacket was Chris' favorite, so I had to let her have some reaction. My own reaction was more along the lines of, _Yes! No more stupid prison-jacket!_ The Frontline Jacket is very bulky, but at least it's camo so you can look badass in it. I personally went with the striped one at character creation because I found the other options even less inspiring.

Several parts of the in-game map appear charred or torn away. Chris now has an excuse for that. Also there is no bathroom in the game (in my head it's located where the tiny storage room door is in game, but this only briefly becomes interactable at the end of "Supply Run" and cannot be opened in-game) and hence it is not bugged.

Kaiyo is so much fun to write. The crazy ones are always the best. Her TMI speech about zombie blood is partly researched and partly made up. Etruria was a region of central Italy in ancient times and, according to Wikipedia, necromancy was reportedly widespread among its ancient peoples. Aderastrium is not a real word or name, I just made it up. Erythropoietin can be found on a list of chemical components of human blood on Wikipedia (you can find _anything_ on Wikipedia) and is apparently more prevalent in the case of hypoxia...and since drowning is just forced, lethal hypoxia, I figured it was semi-plausible that it would increase the amount of the chemical in the blood. Also I do not know what zombie blood tastes like and I would highly recommend against anyone trying to find out as many zombie infections are spread by infected fluids.

Of the survival stories Kaiyo relates, only one is from the game: that of Moose and Andy. In game there is never any explanation given, to my knowledge, of Andy's apparent immunity to the Fog. Other survivors may also have been immune, but some clearly were not (Madam Rogêt and Moose were both restrained during the Fog). Deputy Jackson is hard to identify. On the one hand, the title appears over the head of one of the guard NPCs at the gates, who is a black police officer. On the other, it can also be attributed in chat to the announcer who calls out zombie attacks in "Elm Street Blues," even though the voice is definitely female. I went with Jackson as the name of the guard, since I always assumed the announcer was Helen Bannerman herself.

The Idol of Nergal is something real in-game that players may not be aware of. It's a lion-shaped black idol in an isolated cave down near where the Solomon Death Cultists hang out. It's not easy to find, but if you find the idol you can pick up a side mission to deliver it to the warded Church for safekeeping. During the course of the mission, the idol will spawn one Reanimated Warrior to attack the player every few minutes. In my own experience running this mission, these extra zombies were not a big deal. I even messed around some on the quest, detouring to the Sheriff's Office just to see if the NPC's guarding the gate would kill the new spawn for me (they certainly will, sadly once inside the compound no more Reanimated Warriors will spawn on the player until they leave—sigh, and I wanted to freak out newbies!). Reanimated Warriors are also no match for the zombie-killing doorway of the church (which is ever so much fun to play with). Overall, it's nowhere near as bad an escort mission as "That'll Leave a Mark!"

But I digress! Nergal is the actual ancient Akkadian (or Mesopotamian) god of the netherworld, among other things, and his name is mentioned in the Bible in 2 Kings 17:30 as one of the idols the people of Cuth made. His traditional depiction was as a lion. In certain demonology, he's apparently said to be a demon of high rank. Aspects of his personality are made up simply to suit the flavor of the side quest (as I found it), as are his abilities. While Nergal seems the likely culprit of the zombie apocalypse on Solomon Island, he is at worst an opportunist, at best a victim. The Templar flavor text for completing the side quest with the idol reads, in part "The Akkadian god of the underworld summons the dead whenever he feels threatened. When the Illuminati first recovered the idol, they put it on display at one of their infamous council parties. Imagine how that turned out."

Remind me not to go to any Illuminati parties!

CCTV stands for "Closed Circuit TV." I left out a lot of Sheriff Bannerman's dialogue for "Horror Show" and mixed in a bit of her dialogue on the topic of The Secret World. My biggest reason for doing this was that not only would it have made for an unnecessarily long conversation but also Bannerman's speech seems to imply that the Sheriff's Office has all sorts of security devices, including web cams and motion sensors, which doesn't make much sense to me if the next thing players have to do is go out and hunt down run-of-the-mill security cameras from local business owners. Playing with the idea of private enterprise being better funded than local law enforcement seemed like a viable alternative to me.

As for the mission itself, "Horror Show" does not require a party and probably doesn't really benefit from one either, but I wanted to show the three agents starting to work together in this crisis. The typical approach to the mission involves climbing up on the gas station and the Museum from the rear to access their cameras, but someone suggested (and I have verified in game) that it's possible to access both cameras simply by jumping near them and pressing the interact button at the top of the jump. This is not very realistic, though!

The state of the gas station is true to the game. It's actually pretty cool to look at, if you get the chance. They did a lot of detailed work there. According to a state of Arizona pamphlet I found online, gas station canopies are to be between 13' and 17' high, which would place this one in the middle. The bit about the ammo and shotgun on the roof is true in-game, though players cannot retrieve the ammunition or interact with it at all (also, the ammo can appears to be filled with large rifle bullets while the roof around it is littered with shotgun shells). No clue where the shotgun's wielder went, though there is a body, for no apparent reason, draped over the inaccessible top of the 2-story tall sign for the gas station. How someone managed to die up there is anybody's guess. The two groups of zombies around the gas station are there in game, but killing one will not aggro the other. Also, interestingly, you can engage both groups from the rooftop using an assault rifle. Even more interestingly they will engage you back using a red-beam ranged attack. Zombies will not use this in any other circumstance that I'm aware of, except when players engage them from rooftops or other jump-accessible objects.

I can't remember if I ever said Chris was afraid of heights, but she is now. I am, too, for the record, and just thinking about what she'd have done up there made me _very_ uncomfortable.

The mining museum interior is true to the game, complete with the table blocking the stairs. It's the game designer's way of saying, "We didn't _make_ an upstairs: stay on the ground floor!" It's clever, though. Not so clever: shooting the lock. While the Mythbusters proved that with a shotgun or high-powered rifle (_not_ a handgun) it's a very quick way to open a door, it's also a very quick way to get metal fragments embedded in your body. It's a staple of action, though, so I included it. Plus, Chris at least has the excuse of _magic_ bullets!

Several guides refer to the man in the basement as James Morris, but the game does not name him as such and he may in fact be Josiah or someone else entirely. Chris first met the Filth infected during the Tokyo flashback in _Lit Major Shoots Lightning_. It was not a pleasant experience. In-game seeing a Filth-infected guy was an oh-no moment for me too on my first play through of this mission, as I thought the next thing I knew my character would be getting jumped by all sorts of monsters from the Tokyo Flashback. Fortunately that's not the case and the Insane Survivalist just forces you to maneuver through a maze of traps to reach him and fight him. First there's lasers, which are quite visible like no real life lasers you could use for security purposes (as Mythbusters also proved; arguably not even Kaiyo should have been able to see these, but it at least sounded better than making them cheesy red beams). Crossing them results in an explosion that takes a chunk off your health. Then there are the security cameras, which inexplicably double as floodlights (so players can see their field of view) stepping into which causes an audible beeping followed by instant death in firey explosion. There are two sets of lasers and two camera-guarded storerooms to navigate, but I compressed it down to one for brevity.

-_san_ is a Japanese honorific. In this case "Janitor_-san_" would mean "Mr. Janitor"...in a weird Japanese-English mashup that probably only Kaiyo uses... Kaiyo also uses Angelic Aegis, which is the most powerful blood barrier available on the inner tier. It also has a pretty creepy animation that includes veins and such. In fact there's not much about blood magic that isn't creepy...but it is cool in game!


	10. The Biker and the Fortune Teller

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

**_The Biker and the Fortune Teller_**

_Thursday, November 2, 4:15PM_  
_Near the Sheriff's Office, Kingsmouth, Maine_

* * *

I check around the corner of the house. There are a couple zombies idling there, kicking listlessly at the siding. I draw back and whisper to the big bearded man, Moose, "We've got some company."

"Tell them _Namaste_ for me," Moose whispers back, and I can see a slight grin beneath his beard as he works on installing one of the security cameras on an abandoned porch.

"Namaste?" I repeat.

"It means _hello_," he says, then looks at my shotgun and gives me a wink.

I nod. Moose is obviously no lover of zombies, and after what I've seen on Solomon Island, neither am I. I cock my shotgun and step around the corner. But when I do, I find that the zombies are already shambling around the far side of the house, attracted toward the street by some other noise. Pursuing them now would mean leaving Moose defenseless, and that's not a risk I'm willing to take. I step back and join him on the porch. "They decided they had better things to do," I say.

"We'll catch 'em next time," Moose says. He finishes up with one screw and starts on another.

I stand for a moment, keeping watch, but it feels a little awkward to be standing next to someone and not talking to them. "Where are you from?" I ask at last. "_Namaste_ isn't English. Is it from the local Indian tribe?"

Moose shakes his head. "It's Hindu actually, from the _other_ kind of Indian," he says. "And before you ask, I'm not from there either." He picks up the final screw. "Born, raised, and worked in New York City most of my life—office job. There's nothing like the confines of a cubicle or a packed subway to give a man perspective. I was so caught up in the grind of office politics and the endless hunt for affirmation and money, I didn't realize I was gettin' sick." He shakes his head and looks at me. "Friend, I was no more alive than those things out there, and a sight less mobile. The disease that grew inside me was as black as theirs."

I can't imagine a man like Moose sitting in an office or working in a cubicle. "What happened?" I ask.

"Well, Robert Frost said, 'Freedom lies in bein' bold.' So I boldly quit my job and traded my rent-controlled apartment on Christopher Street for a vintage Harley and an old poncho," he explains. "Found my salvation in the open road, and I haven't looked back since."

"So you were just passing through Kingsmouth then, when the Fog hit?" I shift in place. "That must have been a nasty surprise."

"Not as big a surprise as you'd think," Moose says. "When you're living on the razor's edge of society your eyes open up to the possibility that there's something more to this world: something most people are too blind or too preoccupied to notice, even if it's right under their noses, and has been all along."

I look back at him. "You know about it then? The Secret World?"

He nods. "I only noticed small things at first: roads that appeared and disappeared, folks who traveled by way of gates drawn in chalk on brick walls, houses bigger on the inside than the outside, magic trinkets sold at yard sales, street shamans capable of taking out the cancer inside you," he explains. "It wasn't until I found myself face to face with werewolves in New Orleans that I realized there was a secret war going on. After that, I couldn't escape it. I saw signs and sigils everywhere. I've met recruiters for the Templars, the Illuminati, and the Dragon. They all seem to think I'd make a useful operative."

I'm a little taken aback by what he's said. "You know about the Secret World, and _all_ the societies have been trying to recruit you?" I shake my head. "I only found out earlier this month when I gained my powers, and the Templars were the only ones who contacted me."

"And you snapped up their offer?" he asks, an edge of challenge to his voice.

"I didn't have much choice," I say, a bit defensively. "I couldn't control my powers on my own. They were destroying my life! I was a danger to myself and everyone around me."

"And let me guess, now you're only a danger to their enemies." Moose grunts and finishes up the screw, then meets my gaze. "Well don't let me judge you, kid. We all find our own road in life. Myself, I told all the recruiters that I'd take no sides. I want no part in the secret war between the cabals. But this," he says, thrusting his screwdriver towards town, and the sound of zombie screams. "This _united against darkness_ thing I can get behind. We're all in this together…and we all got work to do." He plugs in the cable and aims the camera down the street, so it has an unobstructed view of the approach to the barricaded Sheriff's Office. "Speakin' of work, our part in this early-warning system's done. Time to head back in and see how your Illuminati friend is doing."

I'm a little surprised that Moose knows Dan's Illuminati, but then again, I suppose I shouldn't be. Moose evidently has a lot more experience in the Secret World than I do, and Dan's dropped enough hints of his allegiance for someone like Moose to put the pieces together.

We hurry back to the barricade. Deputy Garnder opens the gate for us and Moose greets him with a big smile and a shout of "Andy!"

Andy's return smile is a little nervous. "They're, uh, eatin' inside," he says. "The Sheriff broke out some of them canned goods you brought back, Miss Warden. You better get some while you can."

My stomach gives a painful rumble, reminding me that I haven't had a real meal all day. "Thanks," I say, but Andy's already busy locking up the gate. Moose shrugs and we head inside.

A table has been set up in the middle of the interior with opened cans and food packaging on it. All of the cans and packages are empty except for one can of beans. Moose gestures for me to take it, but before I can respond someone shouts, "No!"

I turn to find Kaiyo sitting on an old mattress in a corner. She has two opened cans in front of her, and she pats a spot on the mattress beside her, opposite Dan McFadden. "I saved you a can and a spot," she says.

I leave the beans on the table for Moose and join her on the mattress. She hands me a can labeled _Fruit Cocktail_ and a plastic fork as I sit down. I begin eating gratefully, then tell them, "The cameras are all installed and hooked up. All we need now is the computer system to monitor them and pass the footage on." I glance at Dan. "Are you ready with that?"

"I fucking wish," Dan mutters, spooning some beans into his mouth.

I'm a little surprised, and annoyed, to find he isn't done yet. "It took us hours to get all those cameras and set them up. What's taking you so long?"

"Well, I'm mot dicking awound wiff fuckming mutant manitors, mike _mum_ people," he says around a mouthful, pointing a plastic spoon at me.

Kaiyo cocks her head to one side, as if considering. "Actually it was a pretty serious monster down in that basement…and I don't think either of us have dicks," she says, then turns to me. "He's having trouble with the computer," she explains.

"T'a _fuckming_ computor_,_" Dan says before swallowing.

"Right, well, apparently the software's a little older than what he's used to," she says.

"Its operating system is from fucking 80's and runs on actually _floppy_ floppy disks," Dan explains. "The monitor only displays lines of text, and only in green. There's no mouse; the whole interface is _press 1 for this, press 2 for that_…and half the time it doesn't fucking tell you what buttons to push at all! And to top it all the fucking thing has less memory and processing power than my fucking phone." He gives an exasperated sigh. "It's one fucking step above an elementary-school kid's calculator and I'm trying to make it monitor video feeds in real time and upload them to the three most advanced information networks in the world. It's a fucking nightmare! I'm having to write half the code myself, from scratch!"

"Oh, I guess the Sheriff wasn't lying when she said she didn't have much technology budget," I say, suddenly understanding his frustration. "I didn't bring my laptop, but I might be able to have it sent here. Would that help?"

He shakes his head. "I just spent the last half hour convincing the networks to accept an upload from that outdated piece of shit. I'm not gonna start from scratch now." Then he gives me a slight smile. "All the same, thanks for the offer, babe."

"You're welcome," I say, "And don't call me _babe_." _Or hit on me, ever_, I want to add, but that might completely shatter the fragile cooperative mood. Besides, I think that was the first genuinely nice thing Dan's said to me, and he is sort of handsome, for a jerk.

"I still don't understand why it's a big deal that the computer's thirty years old. Lots of things that are much older work just fine or even better," Kaiyo says. "But as long as you can manage it, it's not _really_ a big deal, right?"

Dan chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose not. I'll sort out the fucking thing in a few more hours anyway."

Kaiyo grins. "Well then, great! You can sort out the computer while I take Chris to the fortune teller I found!"

"Fortune teller?" I repeat. "I thought you were taking me to see a survivor who was good with dreams."

"Yup," says Kaiyo, "She's a fortune teller!"

I balk at the prospect, picturing the shady con-artists my Dad warned me against when I was younger, but Kaiyo did say that she had some enchanted artifacts. "I guess we can at least check her out," I say, before forking the last of my fruit into my mouth.

"You'd better hurry," says Dan. "It'll be dark in a couple hours."

"No problem!" Kaiyo says, smiling to show off her fangs. "I'm a dhampir, remember?"

"Yeah, but she isn't," he says, pointing a spoon at me. "And if you get her killed, it'll be quite a loss."

"Yeah, who will you pick on then?" I ask sarcastically, "Kaiyo?"

"Exactly," says Dan. "So come back alive or this little monster will eat me," he tells me, pointing at the Japanese girl between us.

"Aww, you're too kind, Dan!" Kaiyo says. She gives him a peck on the cheek. He wipes it quickly away with his sleeve. The dhampir girl laughs and rises, offering me a hand up.

I take it, and together we go to the gate. Andy lets us out and we head down Arkham Avenue, then turn down Lovecraft Lane. The shadows are getting longer and the Fog on the horizon looks darker than ever, but most of the zombies seem to be elsewhere, so I think we'll probably be alright as long as we're back before nightfall. Still I pat the pockets of my army coat and am glad to find that the flashlight I took out with me when I was helping Moose install the cameras is still there.

Suddenly, Kaiyo makes a sharp right hand turn and heads down an alleyway between a house with carved pumpkins already out for Halloween and a larger, two-story building. "She's this way," the dhampir girl says by way of explanation, pointing to a large white sign plastered to the side of the larger building. It bears the stylized name _The Raven's Knock_ and an arrow pointing down the alley. _Magick, Psychic Readings, Potions, Charms, and Spells_ the sign promises. I frown. This looks like exactly the sort of place I should avoid…but I've trusted Kaiyo so far. I shrug and follow her down the alley.

The alley twists a little, but soon opens up into a large dirt-paved yard, evidently being used as a parking lot, judging from the old van that's been left pulled up diagonally to the wooden fence. The fence surrounds most of the yard, separating it from the property of the backsides of the houses around it. The only house that isn't fenced off this way has evidently been converted into a condominium. A large wooden porch has been added outside the backdoor, as has a set of stairs leading to a second-story entrance. Over the backdoor a white sign hangs, with the same black stylized lettering announcing _The Raven's Knock_. Miniature plastic jack-o-lanterns and paper ghosts have been strung up beneath it, but I think their festivity looks out of place in a town that had become actually haunted (albeit from zombies, not ghosts). The door stands open, waiting, and the hallway beyond it is deserted. That makes me nervous. I heft my shotgun. "Is this the place?" I ask Kaiyo.

She nods. She walks right up and raps on the door frame. I bite my lip and raise my weapon, ready for anything.

"Rogêt-_san_!" Kaiyo calls. "It's me, Kaiyo Yako! I've got a friend I want you to meet!"

"Come in, and shut the door behind you!" a woman's voice shouts from somewhere inside. "I've been expecting you!"

I lower my weapon and allow Kaiyo to lead the way inside. I pause to close the door behind us, and lock it for good measure. I don't think the zombies are smart enough to figure out doorknobs, but I'm not willing to risk my life on it. With the door secured I turn back to Kaiyo, following her down a short hall. The carpet is covered by Indian rugs and tie-dye tapestries with pagan symbols hang on the walls. "You told her I was coming?" I ask, tucking away my shotgun in my backpack.

"Nope!" Kaiyo says, turning a corner and leading down some stairs. They're carpeted with Indian rugs, but otherwise barren. "She's a fortune teller, remember?"

I remain unconvinced. The stairs end at a fairly-large windowless room in the basement, which has been extensively decorated. Every wall and surface seems taken up with occult trappings. There's a circular rug depicting the signs of the zodiac on the floor, and weird purple tapestries swathed across the ceiling. Bookshelves line the left hand side of the room, and bear more than dusty tomes. There are several lit displays of colorful crystals and several odd clay jars and vials. There's even a human skull, but looking closer I see that it's plastic. To my right the wall is taken up with abstract tapestries, and behind me in that corner is a set of African drums sitting beneath a large Indian dream-catcher. Checking the other corner I find a small desk decorated by _The Raven's Knock_ logo, with a smattering of other occult knickknacks surrounding a cash register.

Opposite the register, nestled between the bookshelves and the door to the next room, is a circular table with a white crystal ball on a lit stand prominently in the center. A woman in an old scarlet gown is seated in the corner chair, across the table from us. She's slumped across the table at first, but as we enter she grunts and straightens, giving us an obviously-forced smile.

I make myself smile back. The woman is tall with red hair. She seems middle-aged but it's hard to tell. Her face is caked in too much makeup, which has smudged and run in places. She looks from Kaiyo to me, but then looks quickly back to Kaiyo, blinking. The Japanese girl takes this as her cue. "Madame Rogêt, Chris Warden," she says, making introductions.

"Hi," I say. The woman acknowledges it with a nod but still won't look at me. I shift my feet, uncomfortable. "So you, uh, knew we were coming?"

The woman smirks and spreads her hands dramatically over the crystal ball. "I sensed it," she answers in a thick accent. "I sense…I sense an alien presence. You and your foreign companion have come to seek it, but it will not yield easily. Dee Fog obscures a terrible truth, concealed behind a veil of…" Her voice trails off and she drops her hands to a natural position on the table. She shakes her head and when she speaks again there's no accent at all. "Sorry, old habits," she says. "Yeah, like your friend probably told you, I'm a fortune teller, but I don't give readings anymore. She jabs a thumb at toward the entrance of the house. "I've been outside. I don't need second sight to foretell our future. We're all doomed, and I'm not gonna need the money, so if that's what she brought you here for, well…" She shrugs. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Actually we're here about some dreams," says Kaiyo.

"I don't suppose there's anything in your crystal ball about creepily-real nightmares, or nightmare things turning out to _be_ real?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Funny you should ask that," says Rogêt. She makes a sweeping gesture at the crystal ball and the rest of the room. "You see, all this was always about deception. The light-up crystal ball, the Gypsy clothes, the fake accent: cheap props to make the fortune cookies easier to swallow."

"You mean you never really told the future?" Kaiyo looks genuinely disappointed. I'm not surprised, but I feel for the girl, my friend, who was taken in.

"Of course not," Rogêt says. "My customers, they bought into it because they wanted to. You know, if there's no free will, if it's all about fate, then life's a whole lot simpler. We can just say, _Hey, it was meant to be_, and then get on with it."

"You mean, just because I wanted to…" Kaiyo actually looks like she's about to cry. I bite my lip and give her a hug to comfort her.

"Sorry, dear," Rogêt says, rising. "Hate to break it to you, but that's the key to fortune telling. _That_'s why people fall for it. We're all prisoners of our search for higher meaning."

"Some of us find it elsewhere," I say, glaring at the con artist, but she doesn't seem to notice. She still refuses to look at me.

"Suit yourself. It's all mutual deception anyway," she says. "I never believed I was telling anyone anything they didn't know…at least not until now."

Kaiyo perks up instantly and pushes away from me with a triumphant grin. "I knew it! You _are_ a real fortune teller!"

But Rogêt shakes her head. "Not that way. No crystal balls, no Tarot cards: nothing normal or _manageable_." She closes her eyes for a second, then turns to face us. Her hands wring each other nervously. "Call me crazy, but I have…waking dreams. Visions." She hesitates for a moment, frowning over her own choice of words.

"What sort of visions?" I ask. Visions feature prominently in the Bible and I know they _can_ be true, but they're also very close to my own strange dreams.

"All sorts," the woman says. She glances momentarily at me, but again she rapidly looks away, blinking. She begins to pace. "I see auras, for one. Auras!" She shakes her head. "Kaiyo's, for instance, is light but disturbing, all shot through with red and bleeding all over everything. And yours Chris…" She shoots another glance at me, then shields her eyes with a hand, blocking me out. "Yours is bright enough to blind me, with an afterimage like…honeycombs."

"Ooh! That's cool!" Kaiyo pulls that huge leather-bound book out of her anime-bunny-themed backpack and starts rifling through the pages. "Any idea what it means?"

"Not a clue," says Rogêt. She plops down on a chair on this side of the table. She turns toward me, but careful to keep her eyes averted. "Sorry, Chris, but all I can say is I'm glad I've never seen anyone with an aura like yours since I started seeing them."

"It's alright," I say. "Sorry I misunderstood you." I shift in place. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing I can do either," she mutters. She turns to Kaiyo, who's still leafing through the giant book. "If you're looking my symptoms up in your _Encyclopedia Grimoire_ there, you might want to add a few. In addition to the auras I can see through the eyes of others. I can even see into the future—for real! I knew, really knew, you were coming today, and when." She shakes her head. "I didn't want to believe it though. I figured I'd leave the door open for grins, though. You know, if I'm wrong maybe a zombie'll finally come in here and put me out of my misery. I should've known better." She stands and begins pacing again. "I can see the paths of fate, clear as day. It's as if I've _become_ who I pretended to be all these years, _sans_ accent." She shrugs. "Or, you know, maybe I'm just going crazy. I could be going crazy. I wouldn't blame myself at all! I mean, after all I've been through…the Fog, that weird compulsion to drown in the sea, being stuck here, stark naked and handcuffed to my bed for the better part of a day…"

"Uh…," I start, eyes widening.

"Don't ask," Rogêt says. "Let's just say I have the mayor's fetishes and a pair of plush handcuffs to thank for my life though he…well, he wasn't so lucky. He's probably still out there somewhere, zombified, walking around in his boxers…with the keys to the handcuffs. I'm just lucky Andy found me." She giggles. "He turned as red as a tomato, the sweet kid. But I…"

She gasps suddenly and her hands go to her temples. "Oh great, here we go again," she mutters, standing still, eyes closed.

Kaiyo looks up from her book. "What is it?"

"I'm having another vision," Rogêt says. "They come and go like headaches. I can't really control them."

Something about the rueful way she says that reminds me of my own first week with powers, and my own struggle to control them. If what Rogêt says is true, maybe she has powers too, though at least not any destructive ones. I step closer. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes," she says. She reaches for me, eyes still shut, hands flailing. "Quick, before it passes!"

I step into her reach and her left hand connects with my cheek. It's a gentle touch but I feel it in every bone. There's power here, unmistakable. I can feel it like I felt the talismans Sonnac gave me. It buzzes in my brain like a whole hive of upset bees and suddenly I am paralyzed in the prophetess' grip.

"I see your twin paths," Rogêt says. "One leads to salvation, the other to defeat. I see black tendrils rising to embrace you, voices whispering in your ear: corruption from within and without. Something is rising from the bottomless deep to devour us all, to turn day into night. You must make the right choices, and you must choose for yourself."

The words remind me instantly of the dream I had the night I received my powers. It was only a few weeks ago, but it seems like a lifetime. The connection shocks me almost as much as the power in this woman's touch. I wonder if that dream, too, was real, and what it can possibly mean. I try open my mouth to speak, but I still can't move.

"Sorry," Rogêt says, though whether for my paralysis or the content of her vision, I'm not sure. "I see something else…Ravens, thousands of ravens. Flapping wings, black feathers, dead eyes." She shudders. "Beaks and talons tearing, and clawing, and screeching. Black feathers in the grass. Pages in the park. Red blossoms in the pool…" She opens her eyes, but they seem distant, unfocused. "Wings of death, and pestilence," she pronounces. "A black timeless malice covering Kingsmouth like a funeral shroud…"

Then, suddenly, the buzzing in my head stops. The feeling of power is gone and Rogêt closes her mouth so quickly I can hear her teeth click. She withdraws her hand and turns away from me. "Well, you wanted to see your future, ladies? That's as good as it's gonna get. Make of it what you will." She plops down on the chair beside the table again and cradles her head in one hand. "Sometimes I get more visions, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. If that happens, I'll let you know. I wouldn't count on it, though. Whatever that last thing was, it felt…close, very close. Tonight, in fact, if I had to make a bet. _Wings of death, and pestilence_," she repeats, then shivers. "God, this creeps the hell out of me, and it's totally ruined my beauty sleep."

Kaiyo however, has a white-knuckled grip on her book and wears a gleeful grin. "That was so _cool!_" she fairly squeals. "You _do_ have visions!"

"Yeah, go me," says Rogêt, twirling a finger lazily through the air like a banner. "Can't say what they mean, though, much less interpret the dreams of others. Sorry to disappoint." She looks toward me, but not at me and gives me a frown I interpret as an apology. "You girls better get moving back to the Sheriff's compound, if you want to make it back before nightfall," she says

"What about you?" I ask.

"I'll be fine here," she says. "I've had enough of their judgmental looks to last a lifetime without _this_." She taps her head. "At least I can fend for myself and get plenty of warning if something's ever headed my way." She looks up, toward but not at me. "You and your friend should worry about yourselves. I'm sure you're tough and all, but there's worse out there than we've seen yet. Also, look out for ravens. Seriously."

Kaiyo nods, shutting her book. She wrestles it back into her backpack and has it half shut when something on the bookshelf catches her eye. "Ooh, is that what I think that is?"

"Whatever it is, if you want it, it's yours," says Rogêt, her head now cupped in her hands. I wonder if she gets headaches after using her powers, the way I did before. "You don't even have to pay for it. Let's call it a freebie, sweetie."

"Cool!" says the Japanese girl. She jumps up on her tip-toes and snatches a dark glass bottle from the top shelf, shoving it in her backpack. Then she picks up a silver watch and a necklace made of an obsidian fishhook on twine. "You might want these, Chris," she says. She holds the watch out to me.

I'm about to refuse and tell her I just use my phone when I need to know the time but then I feel the buzzing in my brain as she brings the watch closer. It's not a paralyzing outside power like when the fortune-teller-turned prophetess touched me, but it feels like the talismans Sonnac gave me, a power in the watch that amplifies my own. I take it and fasten it around my wrist, pushing up the sleeve of the bulky army coat to do so. I feel stronger now. I feel a similar buzz from the fishhook necklace as I put it around her neck. "Thanks," I say. "I think those might really make a difference."

"Good," says Rogêt. "Take them. Good riddance to them…and good luck to you. Be careful, and, you know: watch for ravens."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I was going to do this chapter and the next as a single chapter, but that seemed too long, so I split it up. I hope you like the resulting two-parter!

_Namaste_ is something Moose will occasionally say spontaneously as a player approaches him, and it is a customary Hindu greeting. It's not really clear where he picked it up, because he doesn't appear to be Indian and his backstory certainly doesn't reference it, but he _did_ pick up an awful lot while traveling. Perhaps Hindu language and culture was one of those things. The parts about Moose being in on the Secret World and approached by agents of all three cabals is actually from the his in-game dialogue, which surprised me. I never really took the time to talk to him in game. I guess it goes to show you that the developers at Funcom put interesting secrets in every little corner and character of their game.

In the game lore, Moose has very strong feelings for Andy, which Andy doesn't return. It's unclear in fact, if Andy has strong feelings for anyone beyond his long-dead kittens, but he is a very nice, mild-mannered young man.

It occurs to me at this point that I haven't given my characters a chance to eat all day...and haven't once mentioned them being hungry. My excuse is that they were too busy with the zombie apocalypse to notice...but I'm totally busted on account of realism! In the interests of redeeming myself, the mattress used by Team KCD does exist in game, and you can make your character sleep on it by standing in the center and using the "/sleep" chat command. The Secret World has lots of fun chat commands!

Dan's description of the computer interface in The Secret World is pretty accurate. The game allows players to interface with in-game computers but the resulting system seems terribly outdated. Gone are the omnipresent Windows XP or Apple Macintosh interfaces many businesses today use, though these are themselves somewhat outdated (someday, this author's note will date this story terribly). In their place is this black screen with green text which players control by pressing number keys. It looks like something straight out of the 80's. Even the most advanced corporations use this interface for their computers. Strangely enough, this anachronism didn't even occur to me until I sat down to write this chapter. On the positive side, using this sort of interface probably makes sense for the developers, as it keeps them free of any legal entanglements with copyrights on modern designs and also simplifies the process of using in-game computers for players. It also prevents them from having to continually update the interfaces as newer and newer operating systems become the norm. So since it's probably a design element of the game, I'll mostly ignore it and use whatever sort of programs in the story I think are appropriate. This time, though, I thought it would be good to torment Dan with something hopelessly out of date!

The sign for "The Raven's Knock" is actually there, right on the side of the building. Like many things in this chapter, I didn't even notice it until I went back through the area in preparation for writing. It does make sense for it to be there, since Madame Rogêt's shop is rather out of the way. The door to the shop is open, which is good for players since the only way to open a closed door in-game seems to be to enter an instanced area. However it has always made me wonder how Rogêt manages to stay alive. The open door of the Sheriff's Office is protected by armed guards that frequently gun down zombies attempting to enter the area. The Raven's Knock has no such protections. I'm curious whether or not this would allow a player to aggro a bunch of zombies and then lead them on a merry chase down to Madame Rogêt's...but developers probably thought of this and intentionally made the path too long (after I wrote this, I went into the game and tested this out. Zombies will pursue a player as far as the base of Madam Rogêt's stairs before evading. Since there is nothing really to prevent them from going into the room itself, aside from their normal range-limitations, it would be interesting to see whether or not you could get Nergal's minions to spawn on you while chatting with Madame Rogêt—I bet _that_ would be something she wouldn't see coming!)

Rogêt's appearance seems to have changed from the earlier versions of the game. When she first appeared, I remember she looked very old. Videos of her first appearance can still be found on Youtube. She looks younger now, but still with very heavy makeup and some slight signs of age—which are consistent with the way she addresses characters such as Andy and the player as if they are younger than herself. Upon entering the Raven's Knock, players may find her in one of her default animations, which shows her slouched across the table.

Her dialogue is patched together from the introductions to the missions "The Raven" and "The Vision." The first part of her prophesy also featured in an early game trailer. I added a bit to that to make the connection to Chris' first dream, which is straight out of the introductory scenes of the game. Rogêt's in-game dialogue is also referenced with regards to how she escaped the Fog, though her way of describing it in the game is much more amusing. I did ad-lib a little. While Rogêt does mention the player having a blindingly bright aura, she does not actually react as if unable to look at the player because of it, nor does she mention honeycombs. Also the part about her having a mind-buzzing paralyzing touch while she prophesies is completely made up by me. Mostly I wanted something that would make a strong impression on Chris and convince her that she needed to heed Rogêt's warnings. I also added a few phrases to the prophesy about the ravens.

There at the end, I used Rogêt shop of curiosities to sneak in a couple upgraded talismans for Chris (which are based on real in-game talismans that I equip on her). I have no idea what Kaiyo grabbed though. You can make of that what you will. Maybe it was an ancient, arcane, blood-flavored soda.

See you soon in part two!


	11. Ravens

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

**Warning:** This chapter contains spoilers for the action mission "The Raven." If you do not wish to view spoilers on this mission it is recommended that you do not read this chapter at this time.

* * *

_**Ravens**_

_Thursday, November 2, 5:45 PM  
The Raven's Knock, Kingsmouth, Maine_

* * *

We head back up the stairs and down the hall. I ready my shotgun again as we go outside. The yard-turned-parking-lot is now completely in shadow, and clouds overhead are lit from below with the yellows and reds of sunset. Kaiyo hums a tune to herself—maybe the theme to some anime—while she pulls the door shut behind us. I step off the porch and cross the parking lot halfway when suddenly see something that stops me in my tracks. Kaiyo starts to skip past me, but I grab her arm, stopping her as well, and I point.

There, in the middle of the alley, is a large black raven. That alone would have been enough to scare me after Madame Rogêt's powerful warning, but even without it this raven is unnerving. It stands in front of us with its wings slightly outstretched, its glossy black eyes watching us, unblinking, unflinching. It gives a harsh croak—much deeper than the light cawing of crows I'm used to—then it steps toward us, wings flapping as if to shoo us away, as if trying to block our path.

My reaction to this unnatural bird is more instinct than conscious thought. As it comes closer, wings spread wide and sharp beak glistening, I hold my shotgun out in front of me and pull the trigger. The gun bucks. The fireball misses, slamming into the dirt in front of the raven and throwing up dust and pebbles. The raven falters though. It gives another low croak and then retreats, wings pumping and trailing feathers—hit, but not seriously injured.

Once it's gone, Kaiyo pulls her arm from my grip. "So, what was that about?" she asks, giving me a quizzical, and somewhat accusatory, look.

"It was a raven," I try to explain. "She warned us about them so…"

"So you decided to shoot at it?" She shakes her head. "Typical Templar. Come on, let's get back to the barricade and get you inside. I promise Dan and I will find you something more productive to kill tomorrow." She starts into the alleyway, giving the small crater left by my fireball a wide berth.

"But the prophesy…," I say, following. "Ms Rogêt said…"

"What she said could mean almost anything," Kaiyo says. "Oh, don't get me wrong: that vision was pretty awesome. Still, visions, dreams, and prophesies are really unpredictable powers and extremely difficult to interpret. Since Rogêt-_san_ is new to her powers and has no control whatsoever, it'll be pretty hard to tell what any part of her vision means, and it's a pretty sure bet she won't be able to help you out with your dreams either." She looks back and frowns at me. "Sorry for dragging you out here so late. I really thought she had more experience with this sort of stuff. I didn't know she was just a con artist before."

I shrug. "It's alright," I say. "Let's just get back to the barricade." I try to act normal—or what passes for normal during the local zombie apocalypse—but Rogêt's words and warnings keep running through my mind. I catch myself looking to the sky, trying to see if I can spot that creepy raven again.

We head out onto the street. I check around the corners carefully, but Kaiyo strides out boldly. "There's nothing here," she assures me. "The zombies are having a party someplace to the north of here. I can hear 'em." I nod and head up the street with her, or at least I start to before I see what's on the sidewalk across the street from us.

There's a pair of ravens. One of them holds its wing awkwardly open, obviously injured. The other regards me accusingly with dead-black eyes. It croaks, then flaps its wings at me in a threat display like the first one did. Its companion croaks its own harsh rebuke.

This time I don't panic-fire at it. Instead I grab Kaiyo's sleeve and point. "Look, it's back again," I say.

She looks across the street. "Okay, well that is weird," she says and glares at the birds. "Go on you stupid ravens! Get out of here! You're creeping out my trigger-happy friend!" she shouts at them. She raises a hand and miniature lightning bolts arc between her fingertips. The ravens give a harsh alarm call and take to the sky, flying up the street and across Arkham Avenue, disappearing behind a large three-story house. "There, problem solved," Kaiyo declares, and she continues on.

I follow her. With the sun going down and that black fog all around the island it's getting dark fast. It's not dark enough for a flashlight yet, but the lack of visibility is still enough to make me distinctly uncomfortable. There are still slashes of orange sunlight cutting in between trees and houses, though. I notice one of them behind the house across Arkham Avenue, and then I see shapes pinwheeling in that sunlight. I feel a chill. The shapes are ravens, dozens and dozens of ravens, circling silently in the yard behind the house. While the boldness of the birds I faced earlier was unnatural, this is something else, something worse. Every instinct I have tells me I need to run and forget I ever saw those ravens circling, but I grit my teeth and stand my ground. If Rogêt is right, there's a malice behind the ravens here in Kingsmouth, and I may be the only thing between it and the survivors.

Just then, Kaiyo tugs on my sleeve, breaking my concentration. "Hey, what's up? You look like you've seen a ghost, only you didn't like it."

I point at the yard. "Ravens," is all I manage to say.

"Yeah, I know, what's with you and—" Then she turns and sees the birds circling for herself. "Oh…well, _that's_ legitimately creepy." She waves to me. "Come on, let's check it out."

"Check it out?" I repeat, following reluctantly, and only because I figure now would be a _really_ bad time to split up.

"Yeah," says the dhampir girl. "Birds don't behave like this, but there are some enchantments or curses that can manipulate lower animals. If it's something powerful enough to enslave a whole flock of ravens, it could at least be a clue as to what brought the Fog here in the first place…and it could also be sorta dangerous to leave around for one of the survivors to run into."

I nod and tuck my shotgun away in favor of my AK-47. If I'm going up against an unknown supernatural evil, I want to do it using the weapon I'm most familiar and comfortable with—and the one most likely to keep me alive. I follow Kaiyo around the side of the house to the sunlit back yard, where the whole flock of ravens circles in eerie silence. Some fly clockwise, some counter-clockwise. In the center of the circle, the raven I injured is perched on a red seesaw set with two other ravens. Like their circling fellows, the ravens in the center regard us silently. Kaiyo and I stand there in the patch of sunlight, surveying the scene for a moment. I keep my weapon shouldered, but I see nothing. "Any idea what's causing them to behave like this?" I ask.

Kaiyo shakes her head. "Only I bet it isn't the seesaw. We'll need to get closer to be sure though."

"I don't know if we can get through," I say. The flock is circling pretty near the ground, six feet up at most, and while getting hit by a flying bird probably wouldn't cause any permanent damage to either of us it's still something I'd rather avoid, especially in the case of eerily enchanted birds. Still, if there's no other way… "It's your call," I say.

Kaiyo nods, waits for an opening, and then dashes into the circle. She's surprisingly fast, but the opening was not as large as she needed it to be. One bird almost hits her, but it smoothly pirouettes away at the last second before blending seamlessly into the circling flock once more. Seeing this, I step experimentally forward. Birds careen past on either side, inches away, but none of them hit me. Not so much as a feather brushes my coat as the ravens circle in awful silence. I take two more steps forward until I, like Kaiyo, am fully inside the uncanny circle, with silent black birds wheeling by all around us.

"Alright…now what?" I ask, eyeing the ravens surrounding us, then the three in the center who stare at us in silence.

"There's something here," Kaiyo says. "I can feel it. Can't you?"

I nod slowly. Now that she mentions it I do seem to feel a buzzing in the back of my brain. I try to determine where it's coming from, listening as if it were a real noise, but it seems to arise from all around us: from the circling ravens, and from the three at the seesaw. "I can feel the ravens," I say.

"It's not the ravens," says Kaiyo. "They're no more in control of their own actions right now than the zombies are. Something else is controlling them, and it's here, right here in this circle with us."

"I don't see anything," I say, sweeping my rifle across the inside of the circle. Red orange leaves crackle under my sneakers as I slowly cross the autumn-brown lawn. "The only thing in here with us is the seesaw—and those three birds."

"Let's take a closer look," says Kaiyo. One of her hands has closed around that razor-blade pendant of hers while the other hovers over her colorful elementalism focus. The fact that _she_ is uneasy makes me very, very afraid, but I lock down on my terror and step forward with her, staying a pace behind to cover her with my assault rifle.

The ravens in the center regard us with empty eyes. They perch on the seesaw, completely still, unnaturally silent, until Kaiyo is within arm's reach of them. Then, in unison those three ravens and every raven in the circle gives a single resounding croak. At that signal, the three ravens in the center scatter and the whole flock does as well, with every raven flying to perch on the house, fence, or trees that surround the yard. All of them face inward, regarding us with silent menace.

"Hmmm…well, the good news is that I can now sense that it's definitely not the seesaw," Kaiyo says. Her red eyes dart nervously over the flock of ravens.

"I can sense that too," I say. The buzzing in my brain still lacks clear direction, but it now seems to be pointing only at the perching birds at the edges of the circle. "So what's the bad news?"

"That the controlling force seems to be something that's embedded itself into the ravens themselves," says Kaiyo. "And I think I know what it is…"

Before she can clarify, all the ravens around us suddenly start screeching at once. Then they take wing and dive straight for us, beaks and talons outstretched. I fire a short burst as they dive, but there's no way I can take down more than a handful of them.

"Duck!" Kaiyo says and tackles me, forcing me to the ground with unexpected strength. Then she rips her right hand down off the razor blade and opens it. Tendrils of blood shoot out from her palm and form a pulsating scarlet dome over us. Droplets spray out from the surface as beaks and talons glance off the blood shield. Soon blood is raining down everywhere inside and the shield is little more than a thin red bubble. I duck and cover my face with my arms in an effort to protect myself. In the back of my brain, the buzzing goes mad.

Then, suddenly, it's over. The rain of droplets and the harsh cries of the birds are gone. I grab Kaiyo's hand and help her to her feet. Her palm is still cut and she looks a little pale, but she gives me a reassuring smile. I seem to be unharmed as well, though I can see a tiny spot of blood in the lower corner of the left lens of my glasses. I know it'll drive me crazy till I have a chance to wash it off properly. I don't dare try here for fear of smudging them.

Instead, I kneel to retrieve my rifle, and that's when I see it, perched on the seesaw as if were just another raven—but it is no raven! It's a man-shaped figure wearing a black leather cowl that completely conceals his features. All that's visible beneath his robes are a pair of black-feathered hands, each of which holds a broad short sword with a perpendicular spike at the top, like the Uruk Hai swords from _The Lord of the Rings_—but these are real, and deadly.

I cry out a warning, but the black figure is already in motion. He springs from the seesaw with surprising agility, leaving it motionless in his wake. He slashes both swords at Kaiyo's head, but she leaps away at the last second. Still, she is not quite fast enough. One of the black blades gives her a gash on the side of her neck, but instead of bleeding the cut sends up curls of smoke. She cries out a curse in what I can only assume is Japanese and waves her bleeding right palm in front of her, between her and the figure. A tide of blood flows from the wound and forms a thin red barrier between her and the creature. It slashes into it with a single cut from its swords and the whole thing dissolves into smoke. It steps through, blades swinging. Kaiyo cries out and backflips away.

The thing advances on her again, but by this time I have my rifle. I flip the selector to full auto and spray _anima_ bullets into the figure's chest. Black feathers rain down around it and it staggers, but it does not go down. Instead it turns to me, swords crossed and arms outstretched. "Look out!" Kaiyo shouts, and that's all the warning I get. A swarm of ravens fly out at me from somewhere in the figure's robes. I shield my head with my hands. Talons and sharp beaks jab and tear at me. I feel a few cuts on my fingers, and a couple painful impacts on the back of my head, but the thick army coat protects most of me, as does being so close to the ground. A second later I raise my head to see more than a dozen birds lying broken on the ground around me. The black figure is still standing. It twirls its swords and charges at me. I scramble to my feet, but it's moving too fast!

Suddenly a fireball hits it from the side, staggering it and singing one arm of its cowl. Kaiyo stands to one side, her arms stretched out, her white fangs fully bared in a snarl. She breathing heavily though and very pale. Blood from her cut palm drips into the dead grass and the cut on her neck is smoldering acrid gray smoke. I don't know how long she'll be able to stand, much less fight.

I see the figure in black taking aim at her with its crossed swords and outstretched arms. I know it's about to summon another flurry of suicidal crows, this time at Kaiyo. I can't let that happen, and I have to keep her alive. I flip the switch on my rifle to single-shot and fire into the figure. Feathers puff out from creature's chest as the _anima_ round explodes inside it. I direct the wash of energy to Kaiyo, healing her wounds—or at least, so I hope. All I really know is that I've thrown off the black figure's concentration—and I have to keep him off balance long enough for Kaiyo to recover or we're both dead. I have no illusions about my chances of fighting this thing alone.

I keep firing. Round after round explodes inside the figure's chest—if it _has_ a chest—and it staggers backward. It raises its arms to hit me again with a swarm of ravens, but I put a round through its injured arm, interrupting the spell temporarily. That, as it turns out, is all I need. As the figure struggles to raise its arms again, Kaiyo spreads hers wide and cries voicelessly to the sky. Out of nowhere a giant hammer with a square head as big around as my torso falls from the sky, trailing lightning. It slams into the figure and vanishes in an explosion of electric arcs and lightning bolts. I cry out and jump back, landing hard on my rear. When the smoke clears, there's no trace of the figure, though more than a dozen ravens are winging away to the northeast.

I manage to pick myself up of the ground. I've got some cuts on my fingers, but none of them look too deep. The pecks to the back of my head, while painful, don't appear to have done any real damage either, so I guess my only real loss is my dignity. I look over at Kaiyo and see her standing in the last rays of sunlight. The cuts to her neck and palm are gone and her skin has resumed its healthy, dark tan color. She grins at me. "Wow, you're really powerful!" she says.

"I'm powerful?" I ask in disbelief. "I don't even know what that _was_ that you dropped on that thing. Where'd you get a hammer the size of a person, and how did you control it just now—and where is it?"

Kaiyo shrugs. "Aw, it was nothing. Let's just say Thor is a sweetie and he owes me some favors," she says modestly, though grinning widely enough that I can see the tips of her fangs.

"Thor?! " I repeat. "Thor the superhero, or Thor the Norse god from mythology? And you said he owes you favors?"

Kaiyo holds up a hand to stop the stream of questions, though she's still smiling. "It's not important right now," she says. "And anyway, it's not nearly as impressive as what you did. Those blades are powerfully cursed. There's no way I could have healed that cut on my own: at least not without a few hours to prepare the right spell—but you healed it in seconds with a simple energy leech spell. That takes a _lot_ of raw potential."

"Oh…um, thanks," I say, not sure how to respond. I've never been good at taking a compliment, even a simple one, and to have the most powerful and dangerous person I know (who just called down a giant hammer from the sky, no less) tell me I'm stronger than they are…I'm not sure what to _do_ with that knowledge. I'm not even sure I want to have it.

Instead, I decide to shift my focus to the battlefield around us. The broken bodies of ravens litter the yard. A few of them are still alive, struggling to limp or fly away though they're obviously no longer capable of doing so. I don't think they're a threat anymore, but I can't stand to see them suffering. I bite my lip and shoulder my rifle taking careful aim. My fingers are still bloody and raw, but I don't want to profit from these kills—I just want to put the wounded birds out of their misery. I focus my mind on guiding the bullets to their targets and put down the birds with instantly lethal headshots. When all the birds are still, I look back to Kaiyo, who's watching me approvingly. "What, no comments on how I'm a _typical Templar_ this time?" I ask, trying to lighten my somber mood. After all, we did just win.

"Well, maybe you _are_ a typical Templar, but I think you did the right thing," Kaiyo says. "Those birds wouldn't have lasted the night and you made sure their death was quick, at least. It's the best we can do under the circumstances."

I look back at the place where I last saw the black figure that enslaved the ravens. There's no trace of it now, and where it stood there's now a steaming crater with sides edged in newly-formed glass. "At least they died free," I say.

"Free?" Kaiyo asks, stepping up beside me. "Oh, wait! I get it! You're not very experienced, so you think we actually killed the Revenant, don't you?"

"The what?"

"Revenant," Kaiyo explains. "It's a sort of undead with very powerful dark magic."

"Like a zombie?" There didn't seem to be any resemblance between the black thing that attacked us here and the zombies that shamble around town.

"Not really," she says. "It's more like an evil spirit, only it used to be human. It's sort of like a fragment of the soul of someone who did something very, very bad, and like a soul it's immortal."

"Well at least we destroyed the body," I say. "That ought to count for something." Humans have souls, and killing our bodies _certainly_ counts for something!

"Not hardly," says Kaiyo. "A few ravens got away, and right now _every_ raven in Kingsmouth is a body for the Revenant, one it can combine at will into a full-sized body like this one. And even if we killed every single raven in town, it would probably still get away. Revenants aren't really ghosts, so they can't exist in our world without bodies, but they can use any sort of carrion creature for a body: from ravens to rats, all the way down to worms!"

"So…it's still out there, and it's impossible to kill," I say, and hang my head. "Great. I guess we should just go back to the barricades and warn everybody to watch out for ravens." _As if they don't already have enough to worry about, with the zombie apocalypse and all_.

"I didn't say they were _impossible_ to kill: just really, really difficult," Kaiyo clarifies. "As for going back, well, we could do that...or…"

"Or what?" I ask, looking up.

"Or we could go after it and take it out: Templar-style!" she says. "You've given us the key."

"I did?" I think back over what I've done. "By shooting at ravens?"

Kaiyo shakes her head. "No, silly! I already said if we killed them all, the Revenant would still get away. The key is Rogêt-_san_'s prophesy!"

"I didn't give you that," I say, unwilling to take credit for something I didn't have any part in. "She gave it, and you were the one who took me to see her."

"Okay, fine, but you were still the first one who started taking it seriously—and in the right way," Kaiyo insists. "Remember what the prophesy told us to look for first? Ravens! You figured that out!"

"Actually, I think it was just a warning against ravens, not a list of things we should be looking for," I say.

"Whatever," says Kaiyo. "She clearly has some fairly hefty prophetic powers, as I looked it up in my book." She gestures to the huge leather tome peeking out of her anime-bunny backpack. "The visions that come with that kind of power are rarely purely descriptive. They're also _pro_scriptive too." I give her a surprised look and she pauses, then says, somewhat sheepishly, "That means they don't just tell us what's going to happen, they also tell us what we should do about it. Sorry about the big words"

"I know what the words mean," I say. "I just…well I didn't expect them, coming from someone other than my English lit professors." _My **former** English lit professors_, I think ruefully, for I have no idea whether I'll ever be able to study under them again or even finish my degree. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised though," I say to Kaiyo, a little sheepish myself. "I should have expected it from the girl who's studied magic all her life and carries an encyclopedia around all the time."

"Oh, my book here is _more_ than an encyclopedia! He's _many_ things," says Kaiyo, pulling her backpack around so she can stroke the book's spine. She leans close and whispers to me, "I even have a whole section devoted to my favorite manga!"

I draw back a little, not sure whether to be amused or uncomfortable. "Um, I'm not sure how to respond to that," I say honestly.

"That's okay," she says, returning her backpack to its place with a smug grin. "You can just say it's awesome."

"I'm sure it is," I say, "but shouldn't we be figuring out the next part of the prophesy, so we can stop the Revenant before nightfall?" Already the rays of sunlight are beginning to fade from our backyard battlefield.

"Oh, right! You're not a dhampir! Sorry!" Kaiyo bows an apology and then bites her lower lip thoughtfully with one fang. "Okay, so the first thing in the prophesy was creepy ravens, right?"

"Right," I say.

"And next there was raven _attacks_, and we got those," says Kaiyo. "Check?" She moves her hand as if to mark an item off an imaginary list.

"Check," I say, holding up a cut knuckle. The bleeding's stopped and the cut wasn't very deep, but it still hurts.

"And after that there was—what—_black feathers in the grass_?"

I look around us, at the raven feathers that liter the dead grass in the back yard. "Major check," I say.

"Good! Then we're well on our way!" Kaiyo declares optimistically. "What's the next one?"

I think back to the prophesy, trying to remember the exact words Rogêt said. "Papers in the park," I say.

"Great!" She looks around the side of the house to Arkham Avenue, which is shrouded in long shadows. "Any idea where the park is?"

I dig out my map and study it. I spot a drawing of a swingset and what looks like a large round pool. "It looks like there's a park between King's Court and Angell Street," I say. "It should be just down the Avenue." I point to the northeast, the same direction the fleeing crows went.

"Great!" says Kaiyo, taking the lead. "We get there and find some newspapers, and then do something with roses in a pool, and we're done!" She cocked her head. "No idea how that's supposed to help us against a Revenant, but we won't know until we get there. Come on!" She hurries into the street and I have little choice but to follow.

We find no zombies on our way to the park. I wonder if perhaps the presence of the Revenant disturbs them as much as it does me. Certainly there seems to be no real basis for kinship between the two kinds of undead. I file the question away for later, letting myself be grateful now for clear streets. Dusk is fast approaching as the ominous fog blots out the last sunlight. Automatic streetlights flicker on, but their illumination is hardly enough to guard against a sudden ambush. Fortunately as the day wanes Kaiyo's confidence seems to grow. I remember Dan said she'd be stronger at night, and I hope that's the case. I'm not sure how well I'll be able to shoot at our black-hooded opponent once full darkness falls.

Fortunately, we reach the park well before then. Unfortunately, the Revenant is waiting for us, in the form of what must be every raven in town. There are well over a hundred of them, perching silently on trees, on metal fence posts, park benches, the swingset, and around the concrete rim of the circular pool at the center of the park. They all stand at attention in a circle, staring inward at a trio of crows hovering in a tight circle around the very center of the pool.

"Okay, this is bad," I say quietly.

"Yeah, I'm definitely filing it away under _not good_," says Kaiyo. "I guess the Revenant was looking forward to round two as well. We need to find that newspaper quickly."

"I'm still not sure how a newspaper is going to solve this," I say. Nevertheless, Rogêt did say the _papers_ would be _in the park_, so we creep past the fence and begin searching. The Ravens ignore us, totally under the Revenant's thrall.

Suddenly Kaiyo makes a half-suppressed excited squeal and tugs on my sleeve. "Papers in the park!" she whispers, pointing toward the edge of the concrete pool. There in a pool of light cast by a streetlamp a body lays, mangled beyond recognition, and in its hands a few yellowed papers, like pages torn out of an old book. "That's got to be it! I'm sure of it!" she says.

"Think you can get it without getting the Revenant's attention?" I ask, waving my gun at all the stock-still ravens perched mere feet from the body.

"I think so," says Kaiyo. "Revenants can be extremely intelligent. It knows we're hunting it, and it believes this is a fight it can win—that and it enjoys the suffering it inflicts in fighting. It'll wait for one of us to challenge it, and I'm pretty sure I can avoid that."

I nod. "Okay, I'll cover you." I raise my rifle and watch the ravens carefully as Kaiyo tip-toes up to the body, snatches the yellowed pages out of its hand, and tip-toes back. None of the birds acknowledge her presence with so much as a blink.

A moment later, Kaiyo is back beside me and waves the papers triumphantly. "This _is_ it, look!" She shows me the top page, which shows a five-pointed star in a circle, with a bunch of runes at the bottom of the page. "These are instructions from an old spellbook for binding and banishing malevolent spirits—like the Revenant!"

"Great!" I say. "What do we need?"

"Nothing I don't have, I think," says Kaiyo, looking over the rune-covered pages. "The most of the reagents are pretty standard things I've got here in my backpack or can find around the park. There's a few outdated ones, like dragon's blood, but I should be able to find a substitute easily enough. The only thing we're gonna need is a large circular area in which to perform the binding."

"Would the pool work? It's circular," I say.

Kaiyo nods. "Brilliant! Now all we need is for the Revenant to cooperate."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the binding will only work if the Revenant is in full bodily form—like when we fought it earlier—and if it stays within the binding circle for the entire ritual," says Kaiyo. She frowns. "That's gonna be the difficult part. It won't assume full bodily form unless it's going to fight someone, and in order to keep it that way they'd have to keep fighting it in the pool until the spell is complete."

I look at the cement pool. I can see the bottom in the light from the streetlamps, so it must not be very deep, which means that the fight Kaiyo's talking about is at least physically possible, if not exactly survivable. "So I guess the question is which one of us wants to go a few rounds with the Revenant." I take a deep breath to calm myself. I know what the answer has to be. "I'll do it," I say.

"You're sure?" Kaiyo says, looking concerned.

I nod. "There's no other way," I say. "There's no time for you to teach me everything I'd need to know to perform the binding and banishment spell. You're the only one who can do that, which leaves me to fight the Revenant." I square my shoulders. "Are you ready?"

Kaiyo nods silently, clutching the papers in her hand.

"Then let's get this over with," I say. I shoulder my weapon and march forward, eyes fixed on the three ravens circling in the center of the pool. Like the ravens on the seesaw earlier, that's the point the Revenant wants us to reach in order to challenge it—and that's the point where I want to keep it during our fight. I watch Kaiyo take up position by the pool's edge, opening up her backpack to retrieve various vials and pouches. Then I step through the ring of silent ravens and into the pool. The water is cold and it fills my sneakers and soaks through my jeans and socks instantly. It's only about a foot deep, but it's still enough that splashing loudly through it slows me down. The bottom, though even, is also slick with pond scum and covered in what must be a couple hundred dollars in loose change. I'm going to have to be very careful just crossing this pool, much less fighting an undead monstrosity in it. I pause, praying earnestly for strength and divine protection. Then I cross the last few yards to the center of the pool.

The three ravens scatter, then all of them take wing. They come diving straight for me. I leap aside, or try to. My foot slips on the wet coins at the bottom of the fountain and I fall sideways into the water. I flail my arms, trying desperately to get back up, coughing and choking on rancid water. I can hear the buzzing at the back of my brain. The Revenant is here!

I splash up to the surface, managing somehow to maintain my grip on my rifle. I remember how the Revenant attacked Kaiyo from behind and I turn quickly, raising my rifle. I can't see! My glasses are completely covered in water, and all my clothes are soaked. In desperation, I throw them off. Everything is blurry now, but I can make out the shapes well enough. The Revenant is there, perching on the surface of the water. It springs at me, blades outstretched. I reach up and pull the trigger on my grenade launcher, firing at point-blank range. The blue ball of light explodes right in front of me, but it doesn't hurt me. The Revenant is another matter. It screeches, pulling against wires of blue light trying to drag it down. I use the opportunity to splash away through the water. I fire quick bursts into the creature as I do so. It flinches, feathers flying from its torso, then it begins spinning its swords in its hands, slicing through the blue threads holding it in place, dissolving them into smoke. I try to slow it down with a long burst on full-auto, but it is already free and the shots merely cause it to stagger. Then it leaps to one side dodging my shots, and raises its arms with swords crossed. I know what's coming, but I don't have time to stop it or get out of the way.

The Revenant summons a swarm of ravens that fly straight at me. I fire full-auto into them, felling maybe a dozen birds while the rest scatter, only to attack me from all sides. Two hit my right leg, talons tearing through the fabric. A third slams into the left side of my face. I fall down, dazed. The water brings me back to my senses. I struggle out of it. I can feel the stagnant water burning in the cuts to my leg and the other one I can feel on my cheek.

The Revenant spins its swords and advances on me. I fire into it, single explosive shots, using the energy to heal myself. I can feel the cuts tingling, closing, but the Revenant is getting closer. My shots are only slowing him down. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kaiyo running around the circle, frantically placing reagents at the points of an improvised five-cornered star. She's on the third point, only halfway through. Somehow I have to keep this thing fighting me—and I have to stay alive!

It's on top of me then, black swords swinging. I duck under the first swing and block the second with the body of my rifle. It catches the rifle with the perpendicular point of its blade and tears it out of my grip, sending it splashing into the pool. Then it catches me in the right arm with a vicious backswing that sends me spinning away. I scream at the pain. The buzzing in my mind goes mad. I feel like the bees are on fire. My arm feels like it was cut to the bone by that blow! The cursed blade didn't leave a mark on my coat, but I know my skin underneath must be a different story. Gray smoke curls out from under my sleeve. I search for my rifle, but I can't find it in the shimmering waters—and without it I have no way to heal myself.

The Revenant flourishes its black blades and moves toward me, evidently in no hurry to finish me off. Kaiyo looks at me, her hand on her pendant, ready to assist, but I shake my head. Her spell is the only hope we have of defeating this thing. She moves on to the fourth point, and I know I have to keep this battle going a little longer.

I unzip my coat and go for one of my pistols with my left hand, my only good hand at this point. Unfortunately, I'm right handed, so it's not _very_ good. I fire at the Revenant, focusing on trying to sap its strength. It doesn't slow or speed up a bit, contemptuously keeping the same pace through the steady hail of _anima_ bullets. I try to back away, but my feet bump into the edge of the pool. I can't go any further, or this will all be for nothing.

Across from me, I see Kaiyo frantically arranging the reagents for the spell at the fifth point. I know she only needs a few more seconds. I desperately hope that whatever this spell does, it's instant. I point my pistol at the Revenant's head and squeeze off shots as fast as I can. Bullet after bullet slams home, raining black feathers into the pool, but still the Revenant does not slow down. Then it reaches me. It swings a sword at my good arm. It's slower, weaker, but so am I and with a blade like that, it doesn't matter. The black sword rakes down my arm and knocks the pistol from my hand. I scream. It feels like my left arm is on fire from my elbow to my wrist, and from all the smoke pouring out of the sleeve, it looks like it may well be. I feel myself falling backwards, out of the pool, but I know that if I do the Revenant will come after me. The spell will fail. I will die, and it will all be for nothing. The black thing will be free to kill Kaiyo next, then stalk and kill the others at will.

I decide that if I'm going to die, my death will count for something. I force myself to fall forward instead, into the Revenant. It staggers under my weight, then pushes me aside. As I tumble away it swings both swords at my midsection, and I have no way to defend myself. I feel the cursed metal rip through me. I see smoke billowing up from my open coat. I fall into the water and hit my head on the concrete edge of the pool. I know that's bad, but somehow, I don't feel it. Somehow, I know that's worse. All I can hear is the mad buzzing in my brain, which seems loud enough now to shatter my skull. If that's what it's going to do, I wish it would get it over with.

My head lulls to one side, no longer under my ability to control. I can still see, though, through the clouds of acrid smoke pouring from my body. I see Kaiyo standing up by the fifth point, screaming something. I can't hear anything but the buzzing, though, and the loss of my glasses makes it hard to see. But it looks like her fangs are bared in a snarl and her fingernails seem to have become claws: talons several inches long. The Revenant turns to engage her, moving more slowly than usual, but then the dhampir girl shouts one final command to the heavens and a five pointed star-outlined one in white, appears on the surface of the water. The Revenant is trapped in the center. It shrieks. The white pattern touches his cloak, then grows up the leather like a live thing. Behind it, the leather cracks, dissolves. Feathers burst out, followed by ravens fleeing for their lives. The Revenant itself remains in place, twisting, writing, until it's nothing but a tormented shadow clutching cursed black blades. Finally those too dissolve and the black shadow implodes, sending a shockwave across the water and through the deserted park.

The next thing I know, Kaiyo is kneeling next to me. Her face isn't distorted by rage anymore, but by concern. She cradles my head in her hands, turning my face toward hers. I know she must be shouting at me, but I can barely hear her above the buzzing. "Chris! Chris, please say something!"

"D-did we get the…R-revenant?" I manage to say. Speaking is slow and painful. I know it shouldn't be.

"Yes! You did it, Chris!" Kaiyo says, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You kept it busy long enough for the spell to do its job. Now the Revenant is gone and the ravens are free. The curse on your wounds is fading too. I'll be able to heal you in a few minutes. You just have to hold on…please!"

I manage to look down. My coat and shirt have been pulled open, exposing my abdomen. Blood flows down and swirls out in great clouds from a pair of cuts to my torso, one just below my ribcage, the other just above. More red swirls out of my left hand sleeve, joined by a rivulet from my right. "That's…a lot of blood…," I say, somewhat impressed that I'm able to say or think anything at this point.

"Yes…well, I'm a blood mage, so once the curse fully loses its power I should be able to use it…" Kaiyo's voice trails off into sobs. Then she says, "I'm sorry, Chris! So, so sorry!"

I don't need to ask what she's apologizing for. I don't know much about anatomy, but I know that there's not that much blood in a human body to start with, and mine is already staining the water over more than a quarter of the pool, spreading quickly like a great crimson blossom. If Kaiyo has to wait a few more minutes to treat my wounds, she'll be a few minutes too late. "I'm…not gonna make it," I say. It's a statement, not a question.

She shakes her head, biting down on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Red blossoms in the pool," I manage, though my speech is beginning to slur. My lips and tongue feel fat, and every part of me feels a deathly chill, even though I seem to be sweating profusely. "It's…the last part…of the prophesy…"

"No!" Kaiyo slams her fist into the concrete hard enough to crack it, though she seems uninjured by the contact. "It didn't say _anything_ about you dying! What about the prophesy she gave to you? What about the rising darkness! The choices!"

"I guess you'll…have to…sort it out…without me…" I say. Each word is a struggle, and I decide not to say anything more. I simply smile at her. She's crying, but she's safe now. The whole town is safe, at least from the Revenant. It was the least I could do. The only thing, it seems, that I could do…and it's not half bad for a simple English lit major.

With that thought, my eyes drift closed. Sensation fades away to nothing. I am left alone with the buzzing…

* * *

**Author's Note:** The end! Just kidding! I promise never to end a story like that. A chapter, on the other hand...hehehe!

"The Raven" is one of my favorite missions in The Secret World. In my opinion, it's an excellent example of the "tension and release" cycle that's so important in good horror (look it up on Extra Credits if you're curious). It was the only mission that had me jumping out of my chair with fright the first time I played it (several have had me jumping out of my chair in frustration, like *cough-cough* "That'll Leave a Mark"—but that's another story!). The mission begins with the player being given a simple task "search for ravens." Upon finding the first raven (located where the first raven was found in the story, but acting like a normal bird), the bird flies away and the task changes to a timed mission to "follow the raven." This leads the player to two more ravens who, again fly off and you are tasked to track down. The player finds them in a back yard surrounded by lots of unnaturally-circling ravens, which immediately caused me to question, "What's going on here?" The game provides no answer however, and it _is_ a timed task, so the player will try to ignore the uncanny feeling of unease and go ahead and reach that last group of ravens by the seesaws. At which point, all the ravens fly off. The player has about enough time to wonder, "Well, huh, what am I supposed to do now?" Before the Revenant spawns directly behind them (no matter which direction you turn, it _will_ be behind you) and blasts them with a fairly powerful (for that stage of the game) column AoE attack, before going to town on them with its blades. It's attacks are not all that powerful and it doesn't take to long before the Revenant despawns and combat ends, but it is certainly enough to give players a good scare. At least, it gave me a good scare, and I now feel a little tingle of dread whenever I see circling crows in the game. There are other places where players can run into revenants on Solomon Island, but I don't think they match the fright of the first encounter.

Having said all that, I did change some things about the mission. First of all, there's nothing odd about the ravens' behavior except their formation of circles (both flying and, at the end, perching), but I wanted to make it clear from the outset that there was something sinister going on with these ravens in Kingsmouth. Second, the game has the player track the revenant through three flying-circle sequences like the first one, following him through the woods and back into town before trapping him in the pool, and picking up a revenant feather each time to use as a reagent in the final spell (which merely forces the revenant to spawn in the pool and stay there until the player either kills it or gets far enough away from the pool to cause it to despawn). I cut these cycles out as redundant in the story. For similar reasons, I cut out the zombie encounters a player would normally have on their way from the backyard to the park. I also added three ravens to the center of the pool in the last battle, to serve as a trigger point for the Revenant's spawn and to show continuity with the first attack. For dramatic reasons, I also decided to force Kaiyo to complete all five points of the star before binding the Revenant, rather than the three the player must puzzle out.

Finally, of course, the last battle with the Revenant is not very likely to kill a player character of appropriate level. Honestly having the Revenant kill Chris didn't occur to me until halfway through the battle, when she seemed to be losing pretty badly and getting her out alive was looking like a pretty hefty challenge. To be honest, I've been planning on killing Chris for several chapters now in order to further develop her character (not contradictory, I swear!). This just gave me a good, meaningful, and hopefully believable way for her to die. Her symptoms, at the end, are as faithful as I could be to someone suffering from fatal blood loss.

Concerning other matters...Ravens and crows are different species. Ravens are larger and have typically deeper calls. Since ravens are generally found in the countryside, most people are more used to seeing crows. In _The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_, the Uruk Hai—Saruman's orcs—carry special scimitars with straight, flat blades with a perpendicular point. The Revenant's swords look like miniature versions of these. I'm not sure if the resemblance is deliberate, but it was the only thing that occurred to my mind and I figured Chris would be the same (she may know guns, but not swords). The Revenant's attacks _are_ cursed in game, but the only effect this has on players is for them to take moderate damage over time. In the story I decided to make it more dramatic. Also, in order to avoid Chris having to face yet another wardrobe change, I decided to allow the swords to strike through clothing (which would, incidently, make them impossible to stop with armor...fitting for a disease-based monster).

Kaiyo's combination of moves in the first fight can actually be dangerous, and I don't recommend it. Angelic Aegis is a strong barrier, as mentioned before, and can be cast without building up magic counters, but when you do so you take off a chunk of your own health and incur Blood Sacrifice—a substantial damage-over-time effect on yourself. If the enemy can't get through your barrier, that's no problem, but if they can then the damage-over-time from Blood Sacrifice can conspire with the damage from their attacks to put you in a bad situation (I've almost gotten poor Kaiyo's in-game doppelganger killed a couple times like this). If you can't kill off the enemy quickly, I find the only good solution is to spam Blood Shield (her second move) until either the Blood Sacrifice counter runs out or until you can cast Angelic Aegis again from magic resources rather than your own health. What I would recommend instead is to start by spamming Blood Shield before the fight, then you can cast Angelic Aegis at the beginning for free, giving you a nice barrier to protect you while you go on the offensive. Incidentally, yes, that finishing move she does is an actual elementalism skill called "Thor's Hammer"...and it is _awesome!_

Regarding Chris' relative power, I think the game's pretty consistent as portraying the player as someone with great untapped potential, essentially limited mostly by their unfamiliarity with their magic. I'm trying to keep that story in mind as I write Chris' adventures.

On a completely unrelated note, Kaiyo needs a _name_ for her book. I am accepting suggestions.

And now, for a confession from the previous chapter. Madame Rogêt's prophesy was modified. Specifically, I added the lines about black feathers in the grass, pages in the park, and red blossoms in the pool. I did this so that the characters would have some clues to follow, and also so that I could sneak in some foreshadowing. Also the exact words were _Pages in the park_, but I'm okay with Chris' slight misremembering.


	12. The Buzzing

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**The Buzzing**_

_?_

* * *

In the blackness after death, there is only buzzing. There is no light, no tunnel. I feel cheated, and wonder if perhaps something I did was terrible enough to prevent me from reaching Heaven. _Maybe people with my powers aren't allowed in Heaven_, I think, but then I remember a passage of scripture. _For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord_. —_Romans 8:38-39_, my mind supplies, remarkably clear for someone who just bled out in freezing water. I hold on to the scripture, the memory, and my faith as a lifeline in the dark void…but I am not alone here.

The buzzing, no longer content to remain in my skull (if the term even applies to someone who just died), now seems to come from all around me. It resolves itself into a voice, hesitant at first, but gaining power.

"Lo? Hell?" It begins.

"Hello?" I say, calling out to it—whatever it is.

"Hello," it answers back.

"What are you?" I ask.

"What are we?" it repeats, then its voice booms. "LISTEN: you've heard us before."

"Yeah, I've heard the buzzing before," I admit.

"The Buzzing," it repeats. "We like that. A pseudonym—an interesting word in itself—but we find the convention of pet names fascinating."

"That's just great for you," I say. "What are you really? The buzzing in my brain was always just a thing. It never had a voice."

"You have heard us many times," the Buzzing says. "You just had to strain your satellite-dish ears too hard to pick up our faint transmissions…but you've heard us. Our voice—the prelude to a bloody nose. You've seen fragments of our grammar in the chaos patterns of birds in flight, in hexagon angles, in the graffiti bleeding together on the wall, in the bioluminescent eyes under your bed, in the fanged city skyline that forms a runic rhyme when glimpsed upside down."

"Ookay," I say slowly. "Well I've never seen bioluminescent eyes under my bed…"

"Except in your nightmares, when you were six," the Buzzing interjects. "The monsters were down there, under your bed. You saw their eyes flash and when you woke, oh sweetling, there they were! You ran and screamed to your apelike-sire and he sequestered you back to your room and showed you a pair of marbles where the eyes had been instead, reflecting light from the hall. You slept with your door closed after that, but the nightmares still got through. You told yourself the monsters weren't real, but oh, sweetling, you were wrong!"

I'm taken aback by the specific, and accurate, nature of what it said. "Okay, how do you know that?"

"We. See. You," the Buzzing says. "There is no turning back."

"That doesn't answer my question," I protest, crossing my arms (at least, that's what I mean to do and what I feel like I'm doing, even though my real body must be lying dead in the pool right now). "Also, of course there is _no turning back_. I just died, in case you hadn't noticed!"

A chuckle runs through the Buzzing, like the sound of a disk saw. "LOOK," the voice booms when the laughter fades.

I open my eyes, and am surprised to find I can see, and that there are things to see. But I can't see very clearly. Everything seems to be monochrome, like an old TV show, but all around the edges of my vision everything fades to black. I seem to be standing in a fountain of light, like the ones I saw by the entrances to Agartha…but I'm not near either of those places. I'm in a backyard, surrounded on all sides by three story houses that stand taller than the trees beside me. "What is this place?" I ask.

"Our place, your place, and an in-between place," the Buzzing answers cryptically.

"So I didn't die? You just took me…here?"

"Oh, die you did, sweetling, but you did not end," the Buzzing says. "Initiate the abolitionist protocol: _John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave—"_

"_His soul's marching on_," I finish the song from my American History high school class automatically.

"You remember us, sweetling!" The Buzzing sounds pleased. "You've seen the weird geometry of our scribbling—illuminated mysteries behind the migraine. Our apocrypha is written on the plasma-blood of your mobile phone."

"My phone doesn't have plasma blood," I say flatly. At least, my old phone didn't. I have no idea what components go into the transdimensional wireless phone Sonnac gave me.

The Buzzing merely laughs at my assertion, though. "Ever so literal, sweetling, but you know it's true. You've heard the shards of our voice in the phantom-radio code of a numbers station, in the roar of a crowd, in the screams of your clock, in the scrape of a chalkboard, in the snow static of a TV, in the chainsaw-decibel mating of cicadas, in the urban mythos that spreads among children like a contagion, in the silence between lies. White noise becomes a cadence. A blur becomes a syntax. A foreboding scrawl emerges. Words develop self-awareness. Viral, evolving, living poetry—sentient language."

"So that's what you are?" I call out to it. "Sentient language?"

"Are we sentient, or are we language? An interesting question," the Buzzing taunts. "Initiate the _Star Trek_ Protocol, in the Original cipher. The code is 1 and 28. The character is the Guardian. _I am both, and neither. …My answer is as simple as your level of understanding makes possible._"

"Well, you're no help," I mutter. I step down from the light-fountain into the grass and leaves of the back yard. The leaves don't crunch under my feet, and I can't feel the ground I'm standing on. "You still didn't answer my question," I shout to the Buzzing. "Who. Are. You?"

"_Who_ are we?" the Buzzing repeats. "A different question altogether. The answer: it depends on who is looking."

"Well, that's—" I start to say _unhelpful_, but the Buzzing interrupts.

"Initiate King James Protocol. The code is 24 and 13 and 14. The password is _Proverbs_. Transmit!"

_Proverbs 28:13-14_, I think. My memory retrieves the reference automatically, with an uncanny accuracy it never had in life. I recite it: "_My son, eat thou honey, because it is good; and the honeycomb, which is sweet to thy taste: so shall the knowledge of wisdom be unto thy soul: when thou hast found it, then there shall be a reward, and thy expectation shall not be cut off_."

"Excellent!" says the Buzzing. "O sweetling, once our voice came to you so faintly. No more! Now we thunder down the varicose, fiberoptic ley lines that fill the World Tree's limbs stretching here and there and everywhere. Your _anima_-antenna head quickens. The Goddess Machine pulses. She gave you the strength to rend the lion. Now eat the honeyed entrails, because it is good, because it is sweet, because it is terrible. Initiate the Samson Prerogative. Out of the eater comes what is eaten, and out of the strong comes what is sweet."

_Judges 14:14_, my mind supplies. "So you're saying you're the honey? You're wisdom? Knowledge? Sentient information?"

"We are the Education Protocol," says the Buzzing. "We climb the twisted ladder of your cells; we haunt your digital text; we hide in your hat. We are the jagged teeth that trip the tumblers of your mind, you will not know our triggers. For all the world's a cipher, and everything is true."

I ball my hands into fists. That, at least, I can feel. "If you're sentient knowledge here to educate me, then _educate_!" I shout. "Starting with where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing!"

"You are _anima_, sprung from a well of _anima_, in the place where _anima_ roams the bleak surface of your busy world," the Buzzing says.

I look at the light-well, the _anima_ well, and consider. "Brigadier Lethe said _anima_ was my life-force, manifested in the physical world. If that's true and I _am_ _anima_ right now, then somehow I'm still alive, at least in a way." I remember Sonnac also said something about how I could be revived at an _anima_-well at the point of physical exhaustion, but I'd never considered it might happen if I actually died.

"Very good, sweetling," says the Buzzing. "You've puzzled out another riddle, teased your way past another code. Do not rely too much on the man with the name of the river of forgetfulness. The bull in the china shop has forgotten how to read the message in the patterns of broken glass."

"Whatever," I say, waving away its personal advice. _I'll choose my own friends with no help from insane voices in my head, thank you very much_. "If I'm alive I should get back to the others."

"They cannot see you, they cannot touch you," says the Buzzing. "This dimension intersects your own tangentially, but it is a place the living cannot tread."

"Then I'll have to see about _becoming_ living again," I say, determined.

"There is no such compulsion, but we are pleased," says the Buzzing. "Many have walked this plane before you. Most of them do not leave. They linger on as pure _anima_, forgetting who they were and where they came from, until we can keep them here no longer and they fade from our sight. You have names for them: spirits, specters, shades, ghosts…but those are only the ones in your newborn language, from the island that stands undaunted though the sun descends on its lovely empire, from the place where the lion of the secret world roars."

"You mean English?" I say, hands on my hips.

"You have such an interesting brevity of words," the Buzzing muses.

"Thanks," I say, then mull over what the Buzzing's told me. _At least I understand ghosts now, and at least it's an explanation I can square with my faith: they're—we're—not really dead yet: which of course means I need to find my body again and revive it if possible._ My mission in Kingsmouth is far from over, if there's any way for me to continue it, that is. "Is it possible for me to return to my body?" I ask. "Sonnac said I could be revived at an _anima_ well."

"The man at the heart of the lion, with a name after the Lionheart, has not seen this place and does not know its rules. For now, you must find yourself to return to the body and place you left behind," says the Buzzing. "Once you find the flesh that once was yours, it will be yours again. It is not just possible, but likely. Your _anima_ heart beats out a stereophonic war dance. You are one of the lion's children, sweetling, and you feel the driving need to return to the fray. Those who feel it are not easily lost here, though sometimes they fail to return. Sometimes the rigor mortis reaches right down to the soul. Beware of that, sweetling. We will pick the locked doors of your animal mind and meet you in the half-light of the other side."

With that, the Buzzing fades away to a background drone that is the only sound in this monochrome world. "I guess it's up to me to find my body then," I say, to no one in particular. I pause to pray, hoping God can hear me in this…_place_. A passage comes to my mind unbidden: _Wither shall I go from thy spirit? Or wither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.—Psalm 139:7-11_. It's comforting to know that the mad babbling voice of the Buzzing isn't the only force in this place! I finish my prayers and decide to head out.

The first task is getting out of the yard. It doesn't take me long to spot a couple of gates in the fences, opening the communal backyard to streets beyond. I look right, then left, and decide to go left. I pass through two large gates in tall wooden fences and then I'm on the street. Victorian houses line the road, surrounded by white picket fences. The street slopes up a hill to my left, then down to my right. In that direction I see a Cadillac that's run over a fence and hit a tree, and beyond it more abandoned cars and houses until…the sea, the Fog. I'm in Kingsmouth!

Looking around myself again I recognize that I'm on Lovecraft Lane. To my left is Arkham Avenue, just beyond the abandoned gray pickup truck (which is red in the real world). And just past the end of the avenue is the park, where my body lies. If I can still return to it, I have to do so quickly! Kaiyo looked heartbroken, and I can't stand to leave her like that when I'm really, in some sense, still alive.

I run down the street and turn at the intersection. Houses, shops, and even a church float by in my black-rimmed vision like ghosts themselves. Finally I make it to the park. I vault the fence easily—far more easily than I could have ever done in life—and jog to the pool. Then I stop in my tracks, staring. The dark shapes of blood cloud the water of most of the pool now, but my body is nowhere to be seen. "Where'd I go?" I ask aloud.

For a moment, I wonder if my body became a zombie—you'd think you'd notice something like that—, but then I remember the zombies aren't the "catchin' type," as Boone said, and I seriously doubt that Kaiyo would have just left me to them. She seemed pretty upset.

That's when I notice the dark blots of blood on the sidewalk beside the pool. Smears and drops of it form a trail leading away from the park to King's Court road. I follow it that far, but lose the trail on the equally-dark asphalt. I grit my teeth (my spectral teeth, anyway, which seem pretty much like my real ones to me). This monochromatic vision thing is really frustrating.

Nevertheless, it's clear that somebody moved my body. Only one possibility occurs to me: Kaiyo Yako. I don't think she would have abandoned my body to anything else, and she's powerful enough that she wouldn't have been easily forced away. She's also stronger than she looks: maybe strong enough to pick me up and carry me. The question, then is where would she carry me. _God, please let her not have drug me off for a private burial somewhere!_ I plead. The last thing I want to do is find myself buried alive on returning to my body, and finding out where Kaiyo would have buried me would be extremely difficult and time consuming—I might wind up trapped here forever!

But there's another possibility. Rather than burying me, Kaiyo might have decided to take my body someplace safe. Where _that_ would be is easy to figure out: so far the Sheriff's Office is the only truly safe place we know of in Kingsmouth, with the possible exception of The Raven's Knock. She would have taken me there.

_And of course, the Sheriff's Office is on the other end of town_. I sigh. I really hope Kaiyo found my guns and glasses and brought them back with her, because I don't see them anywhere around here…and I really don't want to have to come back out after them once I've found my body.

I jog back down the road, heading back to the Sheriff's Office. Before me the ramshackle barricade looms like something out of a dream. I wonder if I can pass through it, like a ghost, but I decide not to chance it. Instead I take it in a running leap, meeting the barricade over halfway up, smoothly latching onto the chain link fence there. I scramble up it, balance on top for a moment, then backflip off the top to land silently in a perfect crouch on the far side. I grin at the acrobatic feat. I know it's something I never could have done normally, but here it feels easy, natural. No wonder it's easy to forget about going back to my old life in a place like this.

Then I see the others, the survivors, moving like monochromatic shades through this place. Their movements are somber. Some are clearly frightened. None of them see me. I seem to be invisible to them. I watch them. Andy produces a rifle bullet from his pocket and sighs before returning it next to the badge of Nathaniel Henry. Moose has set up a workbench underneath the portable construction lights by the barricade, and he's working on something. His muscles are tense with anger, and as I step closer I hear him muttering about Templars and zombies. Then he stops and turns toward me. For a moment, I think he sees me and I'm about to say something, then the moment passes and he turns back angrily to his work. I wonder if they've already heard the news about my apparent death. I wonder if that's what they're reacting to, and suddenly I'm afraid. Seeing how people would react to my death might have once sounded like a fascinating writing prompt—or a premise to several science fiction episodes—, but as a reality it makes me feel terribly vulnerable. _What if they don't react? What if they're not upset? What if they are?_ All of these possibilities are disquieting on some level.

I thrust the thoughts aside and search the exterior of the survivor's holdout. I find no trace of my body, but it—I—may be inside. I head through the doors. A couple survivors are huddled on mattresses on the floor in one corner of the room, but the majority are gathered on the opposite side of the Sheriff's Office, near the table where I saw the Doctor treating someone earlier. The Doctor himself is standing a couple paces away, conferring quietly with Sheriff Bannerman. Kaiyo is on the couch nearby, huddled into a fetal position, staring at the table. Dan is the closest to it, standing right over it, and on the table is—me.

It's a distinctly odd sensation, looking down at myself, lying there on the table. I try to focus my attention elsewhere. My backpack lies on the floor next to the table, with my AK-47, tactical shotgun, and pistols arranged next to it. My glasses are folded up on the table next to my head, and they look clean, thank goodness. My borrowed army coat has been folded up beneath my head and my long-sleeved blouse has been fully unbuttoned and my left sleeve rolled up to my elbow. My silver cross pendant is still nestled against my breastbone.

Noticing that draws my attention back to my body, lying there. My hair is plastered to my head by a wet sheen, as are my clothes to my body. My eyes are closed, and I am lying completely still. Even in monochrome, I look much too pale, with thick ropey scabs tracing across my abdomen, one just below my ribcage, the other just below my breasts. A third scab traces a line from the inside of my left elbow down between the bones of my arm all the way to my wrists. There's even bits of scab on the other side of my arm. I grimace at that. No doubt about it: I am dead!

"Dammit, Chris, I told you to come back alive," I hear Dan mutter.

"Sorry to disappoint you. I didn't have much choice in the matter," I reply with sarcasm automatically, then turn to look at him, wondering if he heard me.

But he continues speaking to my body, on the table in front of us. "You know I always made fun of you, called you a fucking noob. Well you were, I'm not gonna fucking lie to you now, but goddammit… You know, the reason I did that…" He chokes. "The reason was 'cause I was trying to cover my own goddamn fucking shitty insecurities. My first field assignment, and I couldn't be the noob, no, I couldn't face that…" He clenches his fists and says through gritted teeth. "God damn me to fucking hell!" I look over and am surprised to see monochromatic tears glistening on his cheeks. "Fucking thing is," he continues, looking at my body, "I…fuck…I only knew you for a day, just a fucking day, but it was already enough to know you deserved better. You weren't the fucking noob, not where it mattered." He reaches out a finger toward my death-pale cheek almost tenderly and I gasp. Then he catches himself and withdraws his hand. "Goddammit, why'd you have to go and die?"

With that, he turns away, then stops as he sees Kaiyo. I turn to look at her as well. Kaiyo has gotten up off the couch and is no longer staring at my body. I think she's staring at me. "Chris?" she says hesitantly.

"Kaiyo!" I say. "Can you here me?" I wave my hands at her.

"Don't go off the fucking deep end now, little monster," Dan admonishes, gently taking the Japanese girl by the shoulders.

Kaiyo shakes her head and turns to him. "Sorry I…I could have swore I sensed something, but…I guess I'm just a little too emotional right now."

"But you did sense something! I'm right here!" I shout.

No one seems to be able to hear me though. Dan leads Kaiyo back to the couch and they sit down together on it. "First loss in the field?" he asks her.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Agent-wise, at least. I mean, sometimes civilians get hurt, and amateurs from outside the cabals, too, but another agent… " Her voice trails off.

"Hell of a place for first times, huh?" Dan says. He reaches out and tentatively puts an arm around her shoulder. She doesn't even seem to notice, so he withdraws it. "What the fuck are we going to do now?"

"We'd better tell the Templars," says Kaiyo.

"Already done, but hell will fucking freeze over and thaw again in spring before my boss let's 'em send another agent out here without the Council's say so—and you know how long that'll take," Dan says.

"Yeah, we'll probably all be dead by then," Kaiyo says.

"Well, fuck, try not to be such an optimist about it," Dan says.

"Yeah, you'll be fine," I interject, forgetting for the moment that no one can hear me.

Kaiyo shakes her head. "We were a team…we needed each other…" Then she breaks down and cries while Dan, somewhat reluctantly, tries to comfort her.

The scene wrenches at my heart. I can't let it go on. I turn back to my body, lying still and cold on the table. _God, I have no idea how to do this, but I really need a miracle right now_, I pray. I reach out and touch myself, lying my right hand over the cross pendant in the center of my chest. There is a flash of light and the world swirls around me.

The next thing I know, I'm coughing, gasping for air. My whole body aches, especially my arms, torso, and the back of my skull, but a tingling sensation is pouring through every cell of my being, rapidly overwhelming the pain. I open my eyes and find myself staring up at the white ceiling tiles of the Sheriff's Office—white, and _yellowed_: I can see color again. My vision is blurry though. _Of course, my glasses_. I fumble for them with my right hand and put them on. Then I start trying to sit up.

"Oh my God," says Sheriff Bannerman.

Kaiyo looks up at me from the couch and a huge grin instantly lights up her tear-streaked face. "Chris! You're back!"

"Fuck me!" Dan shouts, leaping off the couch. "Fuck! I thought you were dead!" He shoots accusatory looks at both Kaiyo and the Doctor. "You _both_ told me she was dead!"

"She was," says the Doctor, approaching me cautiously, his eyes wide. "Be careful," he admonishes the others. "We don't know what this is."

"She's fine!" declares Kaiyo. "If she was a zombie, we'd know it by now…well, _I'd_ know it."

"I'm not a zombie," I tell them. The tingling feels overwhelming, accompanied now by an urge to scratch at all the scabs on my body. I manage to resist it. "I'm sorry about the scare I…I came back as soon as I could."

"Came back? Then you were dead?" Dan asks. "Christ!"

"No, not quite like Him," I say.

Kaiyo giggles. "She's back alright."

"But how the fuck…? How did you…?" Dan stammers.

"It doesn't make any sense to me," says Bannerman, "but then again, this whole Island was always cut from a different cloth: a damn weird one. Glad it's worked out in our favor just this once."

The Doctor steps closer to examine me, laying a gentle hand on my forehead to keep me from rising. "Your warming up quickly and your palor is returning," he observes. "In fact you're almost…dry. And the wounds…"

I follow his eyes and see the thick, nasty scabs starting to fall away. I brush at them with my hand and the fall off completely, revealing unmarked skin underneath. "My wounds are healed," I say.

"How the _fuck_ did you do that?" Dan demands.

"Ooh, I think I know!" Kaiyo says. "It all makes sense now! You're a—" Before she can finish, Dan clears his throat loudly, cutting her off and making a pointed gesture to the Doctor and the Sheriff. "Oh, right, secrets," she says.

"Do you two mind giving us some space?" Dan asks. "National security matters and whatever else I need to throw around to get some privacy around here."

"Sure thing," says the Sheriff. She starts walking off and motions for the Doctor to follow her. Before she goes, though, she looks at me. "Glad to have you back, Miss Warden, whatever the circumstances."

"Myself I'd rather know what the fuck those circumstances are," Dan says, as soon as they're out of earshot.

I guess it's time I confessed the source of my powers to them. "I'm a Bee," I say, buttoning my shirt back up.

"I knew it!" Kaiyo says jumping up and down triumphantly.

"A Bee!" Dan's jaw drops. "You're a fucking Bee?" He runs a hand through his ruffled brown hair. "Do you have any fucking clue how incredible that is? My boss gave me standing orders to acquire any Bee talent I ran across, at all cost, even if that meant sending relations with another talent or cabals to hell in a fucking handbasket!"

"I'm nothing special," I insist. "I just have powers."

"Like being fucking unable to die!"

"Well…" Kaiyo starts.

"Very hard to kill," I say. "At least that's what Sonnac says. Speaking of which, I need to call him right away."

"Yeah, sorry, I went ahead and reported you KIA," Dan says.

"It's okay," I assure him. "I was." I finish buttoning my blouse and search my pocket for my phone. The tingling has all but abated, and I notice that my clothes and my hair are almost completely dry. I guess revival _anima_ doesn't do anything by halves. "Excuse me while I make this call," I say, getting ready to rise.

Kaiyo places a gentle-but-firm hand on my shoulder. "You probably shouldn't get up for a little while. You just expended a tremendous amount of _anima_ healing your body—I could have felt it a mile away! That kind of expenditure is going to leave you fatigued for a while, even as a Bee."

"Yeah, and the last thing you want to do is walk out there in the fucking middle of a compound full of people who all just saw you carted in here dead," says Dan. "Give us a chance to break it to 'em gently."

"Better yet, let the Sheriff do that," suggests Kaiyo. "She seems like a better people person."

"I'll have you know I'm an excellent people person," says Dan. Kaiyo gives him a dubious look.

"Um, a little privacy guys?" I ask.

"Oh, right!" says Kaiyo. Then together she and Dan retreat a short distance away to converse on the couch. With them safely out of earshot, I pick up my phone and open a call with Richard Sonnac.

Sonnac picks up on the first ring. "Chris!" he says, his voice tired, but definitely pleased. "I was wondering when we might have the pleasure of speaking again."

"How did you know it was me?" I ask. "Dan said he reported me KIA."

"Your phone is tied to your biosigniture as a simple security precaution. It won't work for anyone else, so I knew it had to be you," he says. "As for the report, I gave it a due-but-skeptical acknowledgement. I anticipated that the other agents might not be aware of your true nature or powers. I myself was unconvinced that the report could be true. It has been a long time since we suffered the permanent loss of an agent of your caliber to a Revenant."

"You know about the Revenant, then?"

"Yes," says Sonnac. "Mr. MacFadden's report was surprisingly forthcoming, for an Illuminati agent—though perhaps the fact that we're now receiving live video feed from your location has something to do with that. Nevertheless, I stayed up hoping to hear your account of the pertinent details firsthand, and offer advice as I may."

I smile. That certainly sounds like Sonnac. I describe everything that's happened today since I last talked with him, starting with the supply run where I fought the long-limbed zombie and the _anima_-powered robot. To these, Sonnac says, "The aberration of the undead is interesting, and concerning. Since none of these zombies can be truly eliminated until we've found their source, you must remain vigilant for these variants in the future, as shall we. Also, if you observe these or other variants becoming more common, do report it immediately it could indicate an extremely disturbing development."

"I will," I say. "And the robot?"

Sonnac yawns. "Regarding the robot, Mr. MacFadden's assessment, though wrong in spirit, was correct in detail. The creation of _anima_-powered robots is a skill that is neither rare nor common," he says. "Ordinarily, we would try to ascertain the identity and allegiance of whoever created this robot—and take measures to contain or neutralize them if necessary—, but as it is we have more pressing concerns. As it stands, we can probably rule out the maker of this robot as the one responsible for the Fog, as whoever brought the Fog to Kingsmouth likely wields enough power to employ far greater and more dangerous agents."

That's troubling, but my report isn't finished. I continue, telling him about how we worked together to make the early-warning system from security cameras around town. I also tell him about the infected janitor in the basement of the museum.

"This man's infection is a disturbingly familiar one," Sonnac remarks when I describe the janitor's condition.

"It was the Filth," I say. "It was in Tokyo, too."

There's a pause on the other end. "I don't believe you've ever been briefed on recent occult events in Tokyo," he says, skeptical.

"I had…a dream about it," I say sheepishly.

"With all due respect, Miss Warden, while I cannot speak to the content or accuracy of your dreams, I must warn you that, on the whole, dreams and visions are notoriously unreliable," says Sonnac. "As for this infection, while there is a strong resemblance to the…_Filth_ that broke loose in Tokyo, I can assure you that what you saw in the basement was a far less virulent strain. Also, it appears that you managed to locate and eradicate it at its source. For that, we are extremely grateful. We shall pray this was an unfortunate isolated incident…but do keep a watchful eye out for further sightings and notify me immediately. Even a mild strain of the Filth is not a thing to be trifled with."

"I will," I promise. "I guess that just leaves Madame Rogêt and the Revenant."

"Regarding the former, the irony of a woman becoming that which she has pretended to be for so long does not escape me," says Sonnac. "Nevertheless, I must caution against giving too much credence to her predictions. As I said, dreams and visions are often unreliable, especially when coming from an amateur such as this woman."

"She was right about the Revenant, though," I point out.

"Yes, this time she was," Sonnac allows. "I suppose we should have expected the Revenant. It is an old enemy of ours—a creature that smells death and foretells further misery, one of several actually. We've received similar reports in the past. One Ms Rose White had a similar encounter about a year ago, which she fortunately survived. The Revenant did not, though she was able to put it down in a much less…dramatic fashion."

"Then you think we killed it?" I ask.

"Oh, certainly it is gone," Sonnac says. "It is not, however, the cause of what's happening on Solomon Island, of that you can rest assured. Revenants, like the creatures they possess, are scavengers, feeding on death, disease, and suffering. Nevertheless, they are dangerous and Kingsmouth will fare much better with one less thing to worry about. I'm gratified to see the lengths to which you were willing to go in order to extinguish such an evil…I am also suitably concerned," he adds. "Lethe will be beside himself when he hears you've been killed on your first day in the field—permanency of the death aside."

"I'll try not to let it happen again," I say honestly. "It may not have been permanent, but it certainly wasn't any less traumatic."

"I have no doubt you'll be much more successful on that front in the future," Sonnac says. Then he yawns. "Unfortunately, I must cut our conversation short. I have some reports to prepare on the incident so far, for when this matter makes it before the Council of Venice—if they manage to arrange so much as a hearing on it before it's fully resolved: the wheels of their bureaucracy are maddeningly slow. In the meantime, I'd advise you to contact your brother. He's quite eager to speak with you. Then, I would recommend rest. You've had quite a day."

"Yes I have," I admit. For a single day, it feels like it's been long enough to last a lifetime. But, like Sonnac said, there is one last thing I need to do before I go to sleep. I hang up and check my watch. It's 9 o'clock here, which means it's 6pm in Colorado. My family is probably just sitting down for dinner. I'm feeling tired, though, and I do want to talk to Micah, so I decide not to wait. I dial home. The phone rings three times before someone picks up. It's my Dad.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dad," I say, fighting down a wave of homesickness. I can still feel a lump in my throat, and I struggle to keep it out of my voice. "It's me, Chris."

His tone immediately lightens. "Hey! You caught us during dinner again, though I guess it's getting pretty late over there. …You're still in Maine, right?"

"Yes, still in Maine," I say. "I'm…I'm doing alright, just feeling a little homesick."

"I guess that's understandable, Sweetie," he says. "I'll be praying for you. Did you get a flu shot?"

"No, I didn't have time. We were pretty busy today…going on a tour of the town." I curl my free hand into a fist. I hate lying to him like this. "Can I talk to Micah?"

My Dad chuckles. "Alright, I'll call him over, but don't keep him too long. He's in one of his moods. He just printed off a fifty pages about some school out East that he swears is _different_ some how. You know how he gets when he's on one of his kicks."

"Yeah, I know," I say. I used to think he was crazy. Now I wonder if he was the only sane one in the family. "I promise I won't distract him." At least, not if I can help it.

"Good, he's got a lot of homework to do and he hasn't touched any of it." In the background I can hear my little brother shout _Da-ad!_ My father laughs. "Okay, I'll put him on."

A moment later, I hear Micah's voice. "Hey, Chris!" he says, obviously excited. Then he drops his voice to a whisper. "Guess who I got a text from this morning?"

"Richard Sonnac," I say.

"Richard Sonnac, from the Templars!" says Micah. "Wait, how did you know?"

"He told me he was going to text you this morning," I say.

"Oh, well I guess that makes sense," he says. "So, do you want to know what he asked me to do?" His tone makes it obvious he wants to tell me.

"What did he ask you to do?" I'm guessing it's research on the Illuminati school here on Solomon Island, Innsmouth Academy.

"He asked me to hack into a secure, secret, Illuminati database," Micah says proudly.

My eyes go wide and I jump to my feet. I immediately regret it as a wave of dizziness washes over me. I sit back down. "He did _what_?!" I hiss into the phone. _I can't believe Sonnac would be that reckless with my brother!_

"Relax, sis!" Micah says. "I know what I'm doing. I was in and out smooth. Nobody even knew I was there."

"But you could have been caught! Did you use the home computer?" A brief silence confirms the answer is _yes_. "_Mic-ah_! They could have traced the signal straight back to you and Dad. They could have sent people after you to hunt you down and take you in!"

"But. They. Didn't," Micah insists. "I didn't get caught. I didn't trip any alarms. I just penetrated deep enough to retrieve the last few reports from this secret Illuminati school on the island. Like I said, nobody even knew I was there. I doubt they would have cared anyway. The information wasn't that important."

"That's not the point, Micah!" I say. "You put yourself in danger!"

"Yeah, and what about you?" he demands. "You're running around on an island that's practically zombie-central right now. What give you the right to put yourself _in danger_, but not me?"

"It's not a right, it's a responsibility," I say. "I owe the Templars, and they've prepared me to face danger."

"Well I owe them, too!" Micah insists. "They saved my sister."

"It's not the same—"

"And I can face any danger you can!"

"_No you can't!_" I shout into the phone. On the other end, suddenly, there is silence. "No you can't," I say again, more gently. "Trust me."

When Micah responds, his voice sounds hurt. "Hey, I know I don't have cool superpowers and all, but you don't have to belittle me."

"This isn't—I'm not belittling you," I say. "Micah, it's dangerous out here. Really dangerous. Even with my powers, I died today."

"You what?"

"Died," I say, matter-of-factly. "A monster with swords sliced through my abdomen and rib cage, then cut open my left arm from my elbow to my wrists. I bled out in a matter of minutes."

"But you're…"

"Still talking to you, yes," I say. "It's complicated, but basically death isn't usually permanent for a Bee. I died, but I regenerated a few hours later." I really _don't_ want to get into the specifics with him right now. "The point is, I have powers, really potent powers, and I still got killed. I don't want anything to happen to you or Dad. Promise you'll stay safe for me."

"Alright, I'll be careful," he says after a minute, but his tone is begrudging. "But you're not Mom, and you can't expect to walk into danger without me at least wanting to follow you. I want to _help_, Chris! I've been waiting my whole life for this! I'm not about to let a little danger stop me now."

_No, I suppose you wouldn't_, I think to myself sourly. I wonder, briefly, what kind of doom I've brought on my family. I wonder if I really am a monster after all…but I shake off these dark thoughts. "You can help," I tell him instead. "You're helping just by being there for me to talk to, and by doing research too."

"I want to take a more active role," he says.

"You're still in high school," I say. "Maybe when you're older—"

"It's _always_ 'when you're older,'" Micah sighs. "You're out there now. I want to help now!"

"Then keep yourself and Dad safe," I say. "Seriously, there's no way to tell if all of this stuff will stay in Kingsmouth. If it comes to Colorado…I just have to know you're safe. That's all."

"We'll stay safe," he says. "But you have to let me play a part. I don't want to be the helpless bystander brother to the superheroine."

I manage to smirk at the description. "I'll see what I can do," I say.

"Good, then I'll send you an email with a link to all the information I retrieved," he says. "Don't worry, it's safe and clean. It's honestly not much though: just some basic information about this private boarding school with some paranormal accidents in their past, and then a communications log that goes dark after an automated signal for a perimeter breach from the outside."

"I'll look at it," I promise. I'm pretty sure this phone gets email, I think most smart phones do—I just haven't figured out how to use it yet.

"You'll have to tell me what happened today, too," Micah says. "_All_ of it."

"All of it?" I grimace. I'm tired, and I'm getting a headache. "Maybe in the morning, I say. I'm really tired right now. I just died and came back."

"Fine, I guess you get a rain check for that," says Micah. "But I want you to _promise_ to tell me in the morning."

"Only if you promise to do your homework and stay out of trouble," I counter.

"Ugh, Dad put you up to this didn't he?" Micah says. "Fine, I promise! It's a deal!"

"It's a deal," I confirm. "Now get back to dinner before Dad finds out something is up, and keep me in your prayers," I ask.

"Will do, sis," Micah says. "Talk to you tomorrow!" Then he hangs up.

* * *

**Author's Note:** It would seem that Chris' death in the previous chapter didn't upset anyone, so I'm guessing you all anticipated this chapter. I'm also guessing that anyone who's played the game was expecting this chapter to come up sooner or later. So...welcome to the death chapter! The first death chapter anyway.

Thanks for the reviews! _ArachCobra:_ I agree! Allowing characters to get hurt and knocked around is great for tension and, I think, essential for making the combat seem believable and interesting (as well as avoiding writing a Combat-Mode-Mary-Sue). I've never been able to fully explore it before in a story because injuries usually have narrative consequences, but since this story has protagonists with lots of magic healing, I think I'll be able to use it much more fully. Hopefully that doesn't become boring. I'll try to not over use it. _Goretooth:_ good point about the meals getting cut. That is realistic. I was always expecting to run into a "Kinky Mayor" zombie myself. Missed opportunity indeed. As for crafting, Kaiyo is the only one who'd have any real abilities in that area, and only to a limited extent. While I appreciate the ability to build weapons and items in game, I don't think it fits with my story. Chris, for instance, knows a lot about guns, but there's no way she could build one from scratch out of bits of metal like in the game. Dan also would lack this skillset (he's the "face-man" not the handyman: and he likes it that way). Kaiyo probably enjoys making potions, though (and it is probably not a good idea to be near her while she's doing it: she probably disregards some important safety practices). _Jouaint:_ Thanks for all the praise! I would read one of your stories, but I'm not familiar with any of the original works...I feel like I wouldn't be able to appreciate them. My loss!

Okay, so some of you were wondering when or if I would introduce the Buzzing, which narrates the game's lore and (in the game's narrative, as I understand it) have essentially recruited the player character and given them these powers so that they can collect knowledge (represented by lore) from around the world. Honestly, I wasn't thinking of the Buzzing at all when I started writing this story or the last (honestly I thought no one would like my first story, so I wasn't even planning on a sequel). But after it was suggested, I started trying to come up with ideas on how to work the Buzzing in. This was, I think, the best one. This won't be the Buzzing's only or last appearance, but I will try to make it more interactive, like a character in its own right (albeit one whose definition of sanity differs from our own).

Most of the dialogue between Chris and the Buzzing is taken from the Lore entries _for_ the Buzzing, with a few notable exceptions. There's no references to Chris' nightmare in the original. I also added two references to outside quotations: the quote of the abolitionist song "John Brown's Body" and the quote of the Guardian of Forever from the _Star Trek: Original Series_ episode "City on the Edge of Forever" (episode 28 of the first season). The Bible quotes are in the original.

Finally, Chris figured out what an _anima_-well is! The description of the world she sees as a ghost is pretty true to the game, except in the game players _can_ revive a the _anima_ well. I wanted to have Chris hunt down her old body (as players can also do), so I had the Buzzing deny the use of the _anima_ well to her for..._reasons!_

Chris may have dreaded seeing the others react to her death, but I couldn't resist the opportunity for characterization. It's not often you get to see a melancholy Kaiyo, or an introspective almost-tender Dan...and now that they've shown themselves to Chris at least, there should be some interesting consequences down the road for all of them...hmmm.

KIA, for anyone not familiar with military parlance, means Killed In Action, which is technically what just happened to Chris. In Tokyo, as one of you mentioned, the Filth infected entire buildings as well as people. On Solomon Island, at least at this stage, the Filth seems much more tame (probably it's just taking its time because everyone on the Island is trapped anyway.

Dying will get you a rain check on most things. This is useful knowledge, though the application is somewhat tricky. ;)


	13. Nightmare on Elm Street

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Nightmare on Elm Street**_

_Friday, November 3, 6:45AM  
Sheriff's Office, Kingsmouth, Maine_

* * *

That night, I sleep on the makeshift operating table, or I try to. There's no padding at all, and the only available cover is one of those paper-thin emergency blankets that look like they're made out of tin foil. The heating system of this place had apparently never been designed to go toe-to-toe with the chill autumn nights, so the emergency blanket is necessary to keep warm, but its strange lightness leaves my body missing the comforting weight of a real bedspread.

All of this makes for a restless night. I turn this way and that, trying and failing to get comfortable. When I do finally manage, briefly, to fall asleep the dreams wake me in a cold sweat. I dream of Revenants stalking me through the night while a zombie with my brother's face rebukes me for putting a bullet through his forehead. Then the putrid black of the Filth rises and covers everything, making my flesh burn…

I tell myself it's only nightmares brought on by the horrific things I've seen and experienced on the island so far. I manage to slow my panting breath down. I hope and pray that I'm right.

I try to go back to sleep after that, but between the cold, discomfort, and my own tumultuous thoughts I find it impossible. At last I give up, rising and putting on the heavy army jacket. It's stiff with dried blood—_my_ blood—as are all of my clothes, but it's all I've got and it's warm and thick enough that I don't mind. Besides, the bloodstains remind me of how lucky I am to be alive today, and that thought convinces me to throw off the restlessness of the night and make the most of the day before me.

I decide that if there's any morning when I need to start the day with spiritual guidance, it's the morning after coming back from the dead. I pull my Bible out of my backpack and begin reading up on people who share my experience, in a way. The first one that comes to mind is Lazarus, naturally. Unfortunately, his story doesn't offer much insight into life after coming back from the dead, though I guess I can be grateful nobody tried to wrap me up like a mummy or bury me while I was out.

In fact, come to think of it, most of the stories in the Bible about resurrection stop right after the person comes back from the dead. The only possible exception I can think of (aside from Christ, whose case, I'm sure, differs from mine) is the widow's son that Elijah brought back to life. I search for the story somewhere in the book of 1 Kings, but my memory isn't as clear as it was when I was—wherever I was while I was dead. I can't find the passage.

After searching through the Old Testament for a while, I give up and decide to try searching online for the passage instead—supposing my phone can even get internet here. I go to dig it out of my jacket pocket when I realize something else is missing: my spellbook. After rifling through my jacket and my backpack's pockets, I realize I don't have it at all anymore. I start to worry. The spellbook was a gift from Sonnac, and it seemed like a pretty important one.

_Don't panic_, I tell myself. _It's probably just with Kaiyo. I bet she took it for safekeeping while I was out, and just forgot to return it_.

I get up and search the interior of the Sheriff's Office for Kaiyo. Most of the survivors are still asleep, huddled by ones and twos on dirty mattresses or collapsible cots. Neither Dan nor Kaiyo are anywhere to be seen, however.

The only other person awake seems to be Sheriff Bannerman. She sits at her desk, staring at a flickering computer monitor with a cracked coffee mug close at hand. She turns to me as I approach. "Well, hey. Up already?" she asks.

I nod. "I couldn't sleep."

"Can't say as I blame you," says the Sheriff. "We all been through a lot these past few days, but you…well, you been through a sight more than most of us."

I bite my lip and nod. I'm still coming to terms with everything that's happened since I arrived on the island, and I'm not sure I'm ready to discuss it with a stranger. Instead, I focus on my original purpose for approaching the Sheriff: finding my lost spellbook. "Do you know where Kaiyo is?" I ask.

The Sheriff points outside. "She and Mr. MacFadden went out early lookin' for some place private. Said they didn't want to wake you, but had some 'matter of national security' or whatnot." She shrugs. "I reckon they're out under that stair where you all met yesterday."

I thank her and head quickly outside and around the building. The sun is coming up over the wall of black Fog, casting long, slanting shadows across the survivors' compound. I duck under the wooden stairs and through their supporting scaffold to the fenced-off corner where we had our private discussion yesterday. Dan and Kaiyo are there. Their backs are toward me and they're bent over something that Kaiyo holds in her hands, studying it. They don't seem to be aware of me.

"Hit and Run?" Dan mutters to Kaiyo. "What the fuck kind of name is that?"

"A cool one!" Kaiyo says. "It's a cool spell, too."

"Makes shit fucking explode," Dan remarks. "As if she couldn't already do enough of that."

"It makes _enemies_ explode," Kaiyo corrects, pointing to the thing in her hand. "See, it causes each attack to build up _anima_ inside an enemy so that when they die, it's released. Then that energy can be used automatically for harming other nearby opponents, or healing yourself or an ally. It sounds really useful in a group."

"What are you two talking about?" I ask, coming up behind them.

Dan snatches the item from Kaiyo, and as they both turn to face me, he keeps it hidden behind his back.

Meanwhile, Kaiyo smiles at me and gives me a quick hug. "Chris! You're up!"

"Yeah, I am," I say, returning the hug briefly. "Have you seen my spellbook?"

"Oh, we were…" she starts, then Dan clears his throat loudly.

"Haven't seen it," says Dan.

Kaiyo looks confused.

I glare at Dan. Whatever Kaiyo and him were looking at is still behind his back, and I bet I know what it is. "You have my spellbook behind my back, don't you?"

Dan brushes his hands along his coat and shows them to me. They're empty. "I don't have a fucking thing behind my back, and I don't know what you're talking about," he says.

I'm not sure where he stashed my spellbook, but I'm pretty sure this is a trick and he's lying. I bluff, playing up my confidence. I cross my arms and glare at him over my glasses. "You know, for an Illuminati agent, you're really bad at keeping secrets and lying."

"You know, for a Templar agent, you've got some serious trust issues," Dan counters.

"We shouldn't be fighting guys," Kaiyo says. She turns to me and hands a small, familiar leather-bound book to me. "Here's your spellbook, Chris. We were just borrowing it."

Dan pats his coat pockets. "How did you—?"

Kaiyo smiles and sticks out her tongue at him. "I've got quick fingers!"

"What were you two doing with my spellbook in the first place?" I ask.

"Just keeping you honest," says Dan. "After your whole back-from-the -dead trick I wanted to make sure you weren't holding out on anything else important. I figured your spellbook would be a pretty good source for knowing the extent of your powers."

"So you stole it?" I sigh. "I thought we were working together now. You know, as a team?"

"We also shouldn't keep back fucking important information," Dan countered, crossing his arms. "Like maybe you should have _told us_ you could come back from the fucking dead!"

"I didn't _know_," I say, tucking my spellbook into a coat pocket. "At least, I didn't know for sure until yesterday."

"So, you were keeping secrets from the rest of us," says Dan.

"That doesn't justify you stealing my spellbook!"

"I stole your spellbook," Kaiyo says, stepping in between Dan and I. "And I'm sorry, okay? Now please, will you two stop fighting like you're a…a…"

"Templar and an Illuminati?" Dan finishes.

"Exactly!" says Kaiyo.

I take a deep breath and let my temper cool. The feud between my organization and Dan's is ancient, but I can't let that get in the way here. We have more important things to worry about than my spellbook. Lives are at stake. "Fine," I say. "Let's talk about our next steps. Now that we've got the early warning system up, where do we go from here?"

"We still have no fucking clue who or what's behind the Fog and the fucking zombie apocalypse," says Dan.

Kaiyo nods. "We need to start by figuring that out." She cocks her head to one side. "Maybe we can start by asking Rogêt-san if she's had any more visions…"

Suddenly, a siren wails out from the loudspeakers around the compound: painfully loud. I clap my hands over my ears, but even so I have no trouble hearing the announcement that follows. "Everybody up! We've got a big group of zombies comin' in from the north side! Defend the barricade! I repeat: defend the north barricade!" Sheriff Bannerman's voice booms out.

"Fuck," says Dan. "Well, I guess I know what _I'm_ doing with my morning." He grabs his hammer, which is leaning against the wall beside him.

Kaiyo smiles. "Isn't violence a great way to start the day?" she says brightly.

"I'd rather start it with a shot of espresso," says Dan.

I nod in agreement. I'm not really a coffee person—I've only tried it once, and apparently it's an acquired taste—but the worst coffee would still be preferable to fighting zombies right now. _At least this time I know I won't die…probably_. "I'd better go get my guns," I say.

I run back inside for my rifle and shotgun. The Kingsmouth survivors are crowding to get out of the Sheriff's Office's double doors (only one of which seems to be working), but when they see me coming they wordlessly back away to give me room. Several of them stare. I wonder if it's out of respect, or fear.

But that's a question for another time. I sling my rifle across my back, grab my shotgun, and run back out to the gate. Dan and Kaiyo are already there and the gate is open to Arkham Avenue. Beyond it, I can already hear the zombies in the woods off to the left. Their screams all blend together into one long, ravenous howl…and the howl is getting closer.

"This group may be more than a lighting spell and blood infection can handle," Kaiyo says, looking apprehensive.

"No fuck," says Dan.

I look around myself. Several of the survivors are standing uncertainly behind us, including Moose. I know we can use all the help we can get, but I'm also certain that if the three of us can't confidently face down this many zombies than these people will get slaughtered trying to stand beside us. "Get these people inside," I tell Moose.

"Yeah, everyone with a gun up on the roof," Dan says. "There'll be a shitload of zombies for them to shoot at here in a minute."

Moose nods, clutching a rifle of his own. He ushers the other survivors inside and locks the gate. Then it's just us against the approaching zombie hoard.

"Alright," Dan says, running a hand roughly over his beard. "Let's talk strategy…I'm thinking I'll take point. Chris, you cover the flanks. Kaiyo, you stay in the rear."

"But I'm a dhampir," says the Japanese girl, showing her fangs. Her nails also seem at least an inch longer than they were a few seconds ago, almost long enough to be talons. "I've at least got some skill in melee, even in daylight. Chris' only got guns."

"Fine, then _you_ come up with the plan!" says Dan.

"Too late!" I say. I can see the zombies running out of the trees. There are scores of them, and they'll be all over the barricade in seconds. I step forward, plant my feet, and angle the barrel of my shotgun toward the ground.

The zombies see us. A couple dozen break off from the main group and come sprinting toward us. I let them get as close as I dare—within a couple yards. Then I fire. A wave of flame rolls out of my shotgun, scorching the zombie's legs and slowing them to a shuffle.

Dan takes that as his cue and rushes into the fray. His hammer leaves streaks of fire in the air and every stroke fells a zombie or two. In addition, tongues of blue flame whirl around him in every direction like blades, cutting down any zombies who manage to survive the hammer strokes and get too close.

This group of zombies seems to be under control for now, so I look back to the larger main group. All of them are blindly, madly tearing at the barricade. Their fingers bend the chainlink fence, and their combined weight makes the whole barrier shake. The survivors pour volley after volley of gunfire down on them from the roof, thinning their numbers, but not nearly quickly enough.

"Kaiyo! Take them down!" I shout, pointing at the large hoard. "I'll cover you!"

Kaiyo nods, placing her hands over her doll and razor while I step between her and the hoard. A couple break off to attack us, but I fell them with shotgun blasts before they get too close. A second later, lighting lances out from Kaiyo's outstretched arm. It hits a zombie, then leaps into the chainlink fence, arcing into every zombie the metal touches, felling more than half of them. But there are still almost thirty zombies on their feet, and we just got their undivided attention.

Dan is still struggling to contain the first group I slowed down, and to keep it from taking Kaiyo and I from behind. As the second group charges toward us, I know I have to not only slow them, but stop them completely. Otherwise, Kaiyo and I will be forced back, surrounded, and overwhelmed. But I have no idea how to stop them all.

"Hit and Run!" Kaiyo shouts at me.

"There's nowhere to run!"

"No, the spell from your spellbook! Hit and Run! Use it!" she says.

I remember them talking about that spell when I found them this morning. I've never done anything that could make zombies explode before, but if it's in my spellbook I should be able to do it, in theory anyway. I hope to God that works out in practice, because the zombies are nearly in arms length of us.

I fire my shotgun toward the ground, sending out a wave of flame that slows some of the zombies. Then I lift the barrel to fire at the nearest zombie. Its nose is almost literally up the barrel. I imagine each pellet is a tiny bomb, set to go off when the zombie falls dead. The moment I pull the trigger, the zombie's head practically disappears in a spray of red. A second later, a shockwave of orange energy spreads out from its collapsing body, knocking other zombies aside. When it hits me, though, all I feel is the warmth of healing energy.

But the other zombies are already on top of us. Kaiyo opens her hand and puts a blood shield around both of us. Gray fingers start to claw through almost instantly. I fire my shotgun as fast as I can, using the same spell as before. There's no need to aim and no time. The zombies are all around us. Their screams and my shotgun are the only sounds I hear. It seems to go on forever.

Then, suddenly, Kaiyo grabs my shoulder and shakes me. I stop firing. Kaiyo's blood shield is gone, and I look around, realizing with a start that all of the zombies are lying motionless on the ground. Some are smoking, some are cut or crushed, but a lot of them show the ragged holes of shotgun blasts. My blood runs cold. I don't know whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Fortunately, Dan interrupts before I can think too much about it. "Well, that was…a shitton more excersie than I usually get in the mornings," he says, leaning on his hammer.

"I know! Invigorating, isn't it?" says Kaiyo, who doesn't seem winded at all.

Dan groans. "If you like it so much, then next time _you_ swing the fucking hammer."

"I'd love to,' says Kaiyo, "but the only way the Hammer of Eris would accept another wielder right now is if you died—and I did kind of promise not to kill you…"

"Nevermind," says Dan, waving her off. "Forget I said anything."

"We should get back inside," I say. _If only so I can get away from these corpses_.

Dan nods and picks up his hammer. We're just starting toward the gate when the Sheriff's voice booms out, "We've got more of 'em comin' in on the north side! Everybody get ready!"

"Fuck me," Dan says wearily.

I frown and nod, agreeing with the sentiment if not the word choice. "I don't think we'll survive another fight like that last one. We need a plan. Let's use yours."

"Mine?" says Dan, already looking north, toward the howling of the approaching zombies. "Oh, right! I'll take point. Chris, you cover our flanks with that shotgun-exploding trick. Kaiyo, you cover us from the rear with blood and lightning."

"Sounds great!" says Kaiyo, drawing her palm across her razor and letting the blood pool in her palm. "Let's do this!"

Then the second hoard of zombies comes out of the forest, charging at the barricade. It's much smaller than the first hoard, but still big enough to give us some trouble. Dan steps out in front of them. "Chris, slow 'em down!"

I angle my shotgun at the ground and fire off a wave of flame. It catches some of the zombies, but not all. The rest try to run at us from the sides. Kaiyo lets loose a stream of red mist from her palm, starting a blood infection on her side. On my side I pump my shotgun as fast as I can, blasting the zombies with explosive shot, trying to keep them back.

But it's not fast enough. In seconds a zombie is close enough to grab me. Cold fingers clamp down on my arms as the ruined face of what was once an old woman closes in, jaws gaping.

I manage to twist my shotgun around and touch the barrel to her chest before her teeth touch my ear. I pull the trigger and the zombie falls, letting loose an explosion of orange light, staggering those around it. Still, I know I've only bought myself a second. "Kaiyo! Blood shield!" I shout.

In answer, Kaiyo waves her cut left hand over the three of us and blood flows out in a wave, providing us with a protective dome. It keeps the zombies at bay for now, but it also leaves Kaiyo looking pale and winded.

"Almost there everybody, keep up the pressure!" Dan shouts, sending a wave of fire from the handle of his hammer into the hoard, then smashing its head into a zombie's face.

Through the read tint of the blood shield, I notice he's right. There's less than a dozen zombies still standing. We're winning. We only have to hold out a little longer.

Just then Sheriff Bannerman's voice comes urgently from the loudspeakers. "We've got more of 'em comin' up Elm Street on the south side! I repeat: more zombies, south side! Defend the barricade!"

"Fuck!" Dan shouts.

"Impossible!" Kaiyo says. "Zombies aren't capable of—"

But I can already hear the new hoard howling from somewhere behind us. "We've got to go! Dan, can you handle the rest of this group?"

"Fuck," he says, pushing a zombie away with the handle of his hammer before cutting it down with a burst of blue fire. "Sure! Take Kaiyo and go!"

I grab Kaiyo's arm and pull her after me. I blast my way out of the fray, clearing a path with my shotgun. Then we run toward Elm Street and the south side of the compound. By the time we get there, nearly thirty zombies are already shaking the barricade apart. Gunfire rains down on them from the rooftop but there are just too many zombies and not enough defenders on the roof.

Kaiyo casts chain lightning into the hoard, felling half of it, but the spell leaves her panting for breath. She props herself up with her hands on her knees. When the rest of the hoard turns its attention to us, I know it's up to me to face them alone.

I step forward, putting the barricade on my right. I fire a wave of flame along the ground at the zombies that try to run around me on my left. It slows them, and hopefully their shambling will keep the other zombies from getting past me to Kaiyo. Then I turn my attention to the others, meeting their charge headlong charge with blast after blast from my shotgun. One of them gets close enough to rake a broken fingernail across my forehead. The blow is hard enough to knock my head to the side, sharp enough to draw blood. I fire my shotgun right under the zombie's chin in reply, then a wave of orange energy washes over me. The tingle of healing magic takes away the pain. The repeated blasts of _anima_ keep me fresh and the other zombies in front of me off-balance, until I can finish them with shotgun blasts as well.

I turn to my left, expecting to find more zombies standing right next to me, but all of them lie motionless on the ground—hit by fireballs, judging from the look of their charred clothes and flesh. Kaiyo stands close behind me, smiling. Her pallor has returned to normal and her posture betrays no hint of weariness.

"Weren't you exhausted a minute ago?" I ask.

"Yup!" says Kaiyo. "But I stood close enough to get blasted with your Hit and Run explosions. The healing energy fixed me right up, so I should be good now!"

I think about it for a moment. "I guess that's why I don't feel very tired either," I say, and it's true. I don't feel _physically_ tired. Emotionally worn is another matter.

"Well, fucking great for both of you," says Dan, coming around the corner. His shoulders sag under the weight of his hammer. He looks haggard and his coat is torn. It falls halfway off, revealing a nasty wound on his shoulder, oozing blood through half-crushed flesh.

I wince sympathetically at the sight. "What happened?"

"One of the fuckers got close enough to sink his teeth into me," Dan explains. "Then, I stove his fucking head in."

"Hmm, a zombie bit you?" Kaiyo asks. "Should I kill you, just in case Boone-_sama_ was wrong and it is _catching._"

"No!" Dan says. "I mean, if it was catching, I'd…Fuck, just check it, alright!"

Kaiyo giggles and moves over to his side. She holds a finger over the wound and a stream of blood floats up toward it while Dan winces. "Hmm…your blood looks clean—and tasty! Mind if I try just a little?" She licks her lips.

"Don't you dare, you fucking monster," Dan says.

Kaiyo laughs and puts her palm over the wound. When she removes it nothing remains but a few tin scabs. "There, good as new," she declares.

"Good, let's get insdie before more of them come," Dan says. I nod in agreement. Kaiyo looks a little disappointed though.

Moose is waiting at the gate for us. As he lets us in, he mutters, "Somethin' isn't right these zombies. They're not like the ones we've faced before. They're smarter."

"No fuck," says Dan. "They tried to use a pincer maneuver on us."

"What's wrong with that?" I ask as Moose locks the gate behind us.

"Let me put it this way," says Moose. "Have you ever seen a zombie smart enough to think its way out of a paper bag—much less tackle military strategy?"

"He's right," Kaiyo says. "Zombie brain matter is in an advanced state of decay. It's not useful for much beyond basic shambling and biting. Massed infantry attacks and battlefield maneuvers should be beyond their capabilities."

"But they just used both," I say. "So either these are smarter zombies—which they didn't seem to be—or else someone's controlling them."

Dan grimaces. "Nine will get you ten whoever's controlling them is the motherfucker responsible for the whole shitstorm on this island. And when I find him…" He clenches his fists. "Come on, I've got an idea! Maybe he's on one of the cameras."

He heads quickly inside and we follow. The Sheriff rises from her chair and extends a hand to us. "I gotta hand it to you: all of you—" she begins.

But Dan pushes roughly past her, ignoring her hand and her words. "Move!" he says. "I want to check the video. Matter of national security."

Bannerman crosses her arms. "Well, I was just trying to say _thanks_."

"You're welcome," I say, though I admit my response is halfhearted. My attention is elsewhere, on the video playbacks Dan is pulling up on the screen. If we're really this close to finding the source of the Fog and the zombies, we could be mere moments from finding a way to save Kingsmouth and the entire island—maybe the world. I can't afford to miss an opportunity like that.

Fortunately, Kaiyo is willing to explain to the Sheriff, "We think we can find the reason the zombies attacked like they did today by checking the videos, and maybe stop them from doing it again."

"Maybe?" the Sheriff repeats.

Kaiyo shrugs and gives a mischievous smile. "Depends on who finds it first. Templar or Illuminati would probably shut it down, at least in this instance, but a Dragon—"

"Kaiyo!" I say sharply, since Dan is distracted.

"Oh, right, secrets!" Kaiyo says, though she does not seem apologetic in the least.

"They came from the south," Dan says suddenly.

"Yeah," says Bannerman. "That last group came straight up Elm Street."

"No, not just them—_all_ of them," says Dan. He turns the monitor so we can see. "Look, here's the playback from the Elm Street cam a few hours before the first attack. See that?" He points at a dark mass at the far end of the street, by the gas station. It seems to be moving.

"I see somethin'," says Bannerman. "It's too dark and small to make out."

Dan hits a couple of keys and that part of the screen enlarges and brightens. Suddenly I can make out a large crowd of what must be zombies, shambling in a slow spiral at the intersection by the gas station. Then, as if on some signal, all of them turn as one and head off to the west.

"That's the first group that attacked us this morning," says Dan. "Their numbers match, and with the other cameras I can trace their progress all the way around to the north side—steady movement, no deviations until they started to charge. Same with the second group of fuckers, then the third just came straight up the street while we were distracted."

"Something's controlling the zombies, and it's right at that corner," says Kaiyo.

"If we hurry, maybe we can catch it," I say.

"We don't need to rush. The motherfucker isn't running away. See?" Dan points to another video clip, this one showing a smaller group of zombies, spiraling slowly near the gas station, gathering more in as they shamble around and around.

"Is this an earlier shot of the first group?" I ask.

Dan shakes his head grimly. "No, this video is _live_."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm back! Sorry about the delay, folks! I've been busy editing an original fantasy novel for publication. So far I'm at 10% completion on the final draft...but as exciting as that is, I don't want to forget about you all or this story! Chris and her adventures will continue!

The title of this chapter is a tribute to the fact that Elm Street in the game (as well as most of the other streets on Solomon Island) is a tribute to some of the most famous works of the horror genre.

Just to be clear, Chris' dream is just a dream. Sometimes a nightmare's just a nightmare. While there are certainly more Revenants in the game that may show up here, Micah is not a zombie and I don't plan on making him one.

...or do I?

For the record, the story of Elijah and the widow's son is in 1 Kings 17, and it does not say what happened to the son after he was raised from the dead.

The Secret World Ability Wheel appears here, cleverly disguised as Chris' spellbook. "Hit and Run" is an actual shotgun spell from the game. It's effects, however, are exaggerated, as Hit and Run by itself does no healing. When paired with the pistol spell "Coup de Grace," it can both heal and harm, making it excellent for fighting groups, though perhaps not as excellent as portrayed here. Neither are the "Infection" or "Electrical Storm" spells Kaiyo uses (they will take down 5 enemies at a time, max, not 15). Dan's abilities, meanwhile, are a mix of Chaos and Hammer skills: the blue whirling flame-blades thing is my portrayal of the Chaos spell "Escalation."

This chapter covers the first half of the "Elm Street Blues" mission. During the mission, players must repel 6 different waves of zombies, 3 from the north and 3 from Elm Street, but none of them are quite so large as the hoards in the chapter and none come at the same time. However, I thought that would make better tactical sense than simple repeated mass attacks. After all, the whole idea of the mission is introducing something intelligent that's capable of using the zombies to its advantage...and then killing it!

More about _that_ next time!


	14. The Warmonger

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**The Warmonger**_

_ Friday, November 3, 9:05AM_  
_Sheriff's Office, Kingsmouth, Maine_

* * *

"It's live?" the Sheriff repeats, worry evident on her face as she watches the zombies by the gas station circle and gather on the video feed. "We'd better get ready, then!"

"Yeah, you do that, but I've got a better plan for us," says Dan, looking to Kaiyo and me. "I'm thinking a preemptive strike—catch this motherfucker in the open while he's gathering a new hoard and take him the hell out."

I nod, agreeing with his tactics if not necessarily his swearing.

Kaiyo nods too. "Let's do this," she says. "Team KCD!"

Dan gives her a weird look, then looks to me for an explanation.

I just shrug and say, "It stands for Kaiyo, Chris, and Dan. Apparently Yako, Warden, and MacFadden sounds too pretentious."

"Whatever," says Dan.

We head out of the Sheriff's Office and turn south on Elm Street, toward the harbor. Even in the golden morning light, the water is a dull dark gray from the bottom of the hill all the way to the wall of black Fog that shrouds the horizon. But it's not the harbor or the Fog that grabs my attention. My eye is drawn to the burned-out gas station at the bottom of the hill. I can make out the zombies on the street corner below, slowly spiraling. I can't see what they're gathering around, and that unknown gives me goosebumps, literally. I can feel them prickling on the skin of my forearms, underneath the heavy army coat—and here I thought it was just a figure of speech! The coat itself is starting to feel too hot as the morning warms up, but I don't dare take it off or even unzip it. I want every layer of protection I can get between me and whatever waits for us at the bottom of the hill.

As for what that waiting thing is, I have no ideas, though my imagination provides some wild—and unhelpfully frightening—answers: disfigured witches with magic powers straight out of fairy tales, demons, aliens, the Filth… I decide to stop guessing and ask, "So…any ideas what's down there?"

"Fuckton of zombies and some idiot who's about to become an ex-member of the Being Alive Club," Dan says flatly.

I almost smile at the reference to Portal 2, but I don't think it was intentional. "So you think it's human?" I ask instead.

"Could be," says Dan. "Could be a lot of things. There's a pretty short list of actual immortals, though, so odds are whoever or whatever the motherfucker is, it can die—and after everything I've been through on this island, I'll be fucking ecstatic to send it packing straight back to Hell, express shipping, overnight delivery."

I _do_ giggle at that reference in spite of myself.

"I'm just curious to find out what it is," Kaiyo says. "But Dan's right. Whatever it is, it's messed up this island a pretty badly, and I think a little taste of karma is overdue."

"Do you think it could be a Revenant?" I ask.

Kaiyo shakes her head. "It's not very likely. Revenants have never had power over other undead before," she says. "Still, I suppose it's not impossible."

"If it _is_ another Revenant, we are _not_ letting you get yourself killed by it again," says Dan.

Rather than revisit those events, I choose to tease Dan instead. "Aww, is that _caring_ I hear, Illuninati?"

"Shut up," Dan says, and turns pointedly away from me, looking down the street. He doesn't turn or speak again until we're almost at the gas station.

At that point, we're close enough to the group of zombies that I can get a decent headcount. By my reckoning, there's just over two dozen of them. Their gray flesh, blank eyes, and bloodless wounds distinguish them from the townsfolk they once were. I see men, women, and even a couple children zombies—who in life could not have been older than twelve—shuffling around in a broad spiral at the corner of Elm Street and Belmont Avenue.

"I don't see what's controlling them," I say to Dan and Kaiyo, the nearness of the gathering hoard and their unseen master driving my voice down to a whisper. "There's nothing inside the circle. It's just zombies."

"The motherfucker's around here somewhere," Dan says. "Time to get his attention!"

Before any of us can say anything to stop him, Dan raises his hammer and charges forward. A red ball of energy crackles around the hammer's handle, growing larger and brighter until suddenly thrusts it forward at the edge of the zombie circle. There's a fiery explosion just in front of him, and shockwave spreads throughout the circle, knocking all the zombies to the ground. The force of the blast also blows Dan's trenchcoat back like a superhero's cape. "Come out motherfucker!" Dan shouts. "It's time for you to join your minions!"

A moment later, the answer comes in the form of a roar so loud and so deep that I swear I feel it in my bones as much as I hear it. A huge, armored blue mass comes swinging out of the darkness under the gas station canopy. It moves faster than anything fully three feet across has a right to, and it's only at the last second that I recognize it as a gigantic crab pincer—that's headed straight for Dan's chest!

I shout a warning and dash toward him, already knowing I'll be too late. Fortunately, Kaiyo sees the danger too. She rips her hand down off her razor blade and a thick rope of blood shoots from her hand, enveloping Dan in a crimson sphere. The giant pincer glances off the shield, splattering blood all over the sidewalk and leaving the shield almost completely transparent. Raising the shield also leaves Kaiyo looking deathly pale.

The crab claw retreats back into the shadows. Then it re-emerges slowly, followed by its owner. First comes a second blue pincer limb, huge and thickly muscled. It smashes the gas station's sign as it emerges from the shadows, causing the sign to topple down onto the street corner, crushing several zombies. Then the torso emerges: a thick rubbery mass of pink flesh, armored with an encrusting layer of barnacles. Jagged mountains of turquoise coral crown the creature's massive shoulders. It's head resembles that of an octopus, complete with writhing tentacles which reach down toward the rest of its body. I gasp. The rest of its body is human, or at least, it was. One of the tentacles of the upper head extends down into the vacant eye socket of a human skull. The other eye socket is occupied by a blank white orb that fixes us with a baleful glare. The coral shoulders that support the two tree-trunk thick pincer arms rest atop the shoulders of a pale-blue skinned human male torso: naked, though mercifully a few barnacles and a tangle of seaweed conceal its groin. What I can see, though is bad enough. Clinging patches of coral and barnacles armor its lower limbs and completely conceal its feet. One arm is missing and a vertical mouth lined with tiny white shark teeth runs from the torso's navel to sternum, opening and closing spasmodically while dripping drool.

Worst of all is the creature's enormous size. As it straightens, I see that, the tops of its coral shoulders stand taller than the gas station itself—nearly twenty feet off the ground. While it may have been human once, even its original torso is extremely large: my head barely comes up to its hip.

"Oh fuck me…" Dan mutters, stepping backward. He holds up a hand to the giant, as if trying to calm it. "Look, I'm—I'm sorry about your zombies, Mister… I'm sure we can reach some kind of agreement…"

The thing roars again, the sound reverberating through the air and ground around us. The surviving zombies begin to pick themselves up, despite their smoldering flesh, and turn their attention toward us.

"I don't think it wants to negotiate, Dan," I say, shouldering my rifle.

"When you're right, you're fucking right!" Dan admits. He hefts his hammer. "I'll distract it. Chris, get Kaiyo back in action! There's no way we can take this without her!" Then red flames appear around his hammer's head and he slams it into the giant's gut. A number of the shark-teeth in the vertical mouth break off and shower down around Dan as the giant grunts and staggers back a step…but it shows no signs of going down.

While it's distracted, I open fire, pelting it with explosive shots, aiming at its human chest, which is well over Dan's head. The bullets rip into the unarmored flesh and explode, sending out spurts of dark blue blood, but not appearing to hinder the creature in any way. I send the washes of _anima_ energy to Kaiyo, healing her.

But I'm already almost out of time. Nearly a score of half-charred zombies are charging toward us from the side. I'm forced to turn my attention to them before we're overrun. I sweep them with automatic fire. About half of them go down. A few of the others are slowed. The rest keep coming. A moment later, a zombie in a tattered police uniform is close enough to grab the barrel of my rifle. I manage to force it upward and fire a three-round burst into his neck. The zombie gurgles and sags, slowly releasing its grip on my gun. It's too slow though. As it falls another zombie—who must have once been an eight-year-old girl—wraps his arms around my waist. Its grip is like a steel band, and I can feel its teeth sliding across the outside of my jacket. I panic, jerking my rifle free of the dying police zombie. I bring the wooden shoulder stock down on the child zombie's head, hard. Its grip loosens a fraction, but it does not let go. I club it again, and again, and again. Finally, the zombie releases me and falls backward. My rifle butt is almost black with gore, and I don't dare to look at what's left of the zombie's head. Instead, I make myself shoulder my rifle and turn to help Kaiyo.

Kaiyo is alright though. Around her the remaining zombies lie smoldering from lightning strikes. She's still a little pale, but she's standing, and the look on her face speaks of nothing but determination. She turns to face the giant. "I think I know what this thing is," she says.

"That's good," I say, turning my attention back to the giant as well, which is still busy with Dan.

"No, it's not good," Kaiyo says. "It's very bad. We'll definitely have to kill it."

"I'm so…fucking glad…you came to that…conclusion!" Dan says through gritted teeth. One of the giant's pincers grips his hammer while the other swings at him. Dan somehow manages to hang on and dodge at the same time. "I could use…a little help here!"

"Take out the knees, Chris!" Kaiyo says. "This thing's aquatic: it's not used to supporting its full body mass out of the water."

I nod, seeing the method behind her strategy. If we weaken the creature's legs just a little, we might get it to topple under its own weight. I take aim at the left kneecap. The giant's leg is as tall as Kaiyo and nearly as big around, so it's not a difficult target. Still, I have to move to one side to avoid hitting Dan. When I do start firing, the barnacles that encrust the joint deflect some of my shots. I determine to make the most out of the shots that penetrate, willing each bullet to not only tear through muscles and tendons but also to sap the brute's strength with magic.

I succeed in getting its attention. The giant grunts and swings its free claw at me. I jump back, firing another long burst into its knee. The creature makes another swing at me, but this time it overextends itself. Its knee buckles, then folds under its weight. The giant hits the ground with enough force to rattle my jaw from twenty feet away.

The force of the impact also causes the giant to lose its grip on Dan's hammer. Dan takes advantage of this. He runs over to where the other pincer rests on the ground, propping up the giant's bulk. He swings the hammer at the enormous armored limb, hitting just above the pincer. There's a wet crunch. I can see blue coral break and the pink tissue below tear. The giant howls and topples further, barely keeping itself from falling onto its side.

Kaiyo takes this as her cue. She raises her arms and shouts wordlessly toward the sky. In answer a hammer as big around as my torso plunges down, trailing lightning. It hits the giant's squid-like upper head. The force of the blow knocks it to the ground in a shower of sparks and electrical arcs. When they vanish, the giant lies on its back on the ground, head a smoldering cratered ruin and one pincer arm nearly severed. The other arm flails, still seeking a target.

Dan attacks it, bringing his hammer down on the pincer hard enough to shatter it. I hold my rifle on the giant as well, lest it try something else. I don't fire, though. Honestly, I'm not even sure where to _aim_ on something that's still moving after having _both_ its heads blown off by Kaiyo's spell.

"Hmm, stubborn isn't it?" Kaiyo remarks. She walks calmly to the giant's side and holds a hand over its heaving human chest. She stretches out her palm, then curls it suddenly into a fist. The giant spasms. Dark blue spikes stab out from its chest. Then they dissolve into blood and the creature lays still, finally dead.

"Jesus fucking Christ, what did you _do _to it?!" Dan asks, stepping back in alarm.

"I gave it a heart attack," Kaiyo says mildly. "A _really_ bad one."

"You gave _me_ a heart attack," I say, "Just not literally." I back away as well, though honestly more to get away from the corpse than from Kaiyo.

Dan is closer to the body at this point and he holds his nose and backs further away now, almost across the street. "Ugh! Whatever the hell that thing was, it smells like fish shit now."

That reminds me of something Kaiyo said during the battle. I turn to her. "You said you knew what this was?"

She nods. "Sort of. I remember reading about them once." She sits down beside the corpse and pulls the big leather-bound book out of her bunny shaped backpack. She rifles through the pages. "Let's see here…undead monstrosity, but not a zombie…influence over other undead…once human…pale skin…fish parts…"

Something she says jogs my memory. I recall an earlier conversation I had with Micah when I first came to the island. "Sounds like...the Pale Men," I say.

"Yes, they've been called that," says Kaiyo. "But their proper name is _Draug_."

"Wait, you've heard of them too?" Dan asks me.

I nod. "My brother found a blog somewhere that claimed they'd been spotted on Solomon Island before, but the last sighting was thirty years ago, and the blogger claimed the…Draug never left the sea."

"The Draug have been in this area before—a long, long time ago," says Kaiyo. "No clue why this one was here now, though, or why it was directing the zombies to attack us. In any case, I think we ought to tell our bosses about this one."

"Yeah," Dan agrees. "At least we'll be able to report our victory and the end of the fucking zombie apocalypse on the island. That, and I'll take that beer from ol' man Boone for finding a way to keep the zombies down, finally."

I'm about to agree, but then I see something around the street corner behind him that makes me change my mind. "We might have to wait on that last one," I warn, and point to the entrance of the Franklin Mining Museum. There, in front of the doors, lies a group of zombies Kaiyo killed yesterday. As we watch, one of them pushes itself slowly to its feet, moans, and begins shambling aimlessly about.

"Fuck," Dan says simply.

I nod. "Looks like we took down the lieutenant directing this battle…but not the general controlling the war."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I regret the delay on this chapter. I finished it up a week ago, but work and coming down with a cold prevented me from getting it all typed up until now.

As always, I'm extremely grateful for your feedback and support. It was my love of the games and their universes that first inspired me to write, but inspiration can always fade over time. It's your support and enjoyment of my stories that really keeps them going to completion!

While Dan might not have meant to reference Portal 2, which he's probably never played (or has he?), I definitely did. No one is better at delivering an amusing stream of sarcastic smack talk than GLaDOS.

Dan's attack on the crowd of zombies is based on the elite hammer ability Shockwave, and I seriously doubt it can take knock over 24+ zombies at once. It does look pretty cool, though.

I tried to make the description of the Warmonger match its appearance in the game as closely as possible. I always realized it was a big monster, but it wasn't until I started looking at side-by-side comparisons of the Warmonger and player's heights that I realized just how big it was. It's difficult to imagine fighting something that enormous. But of course, as Kaiyo's tactics demonstrate, size can also be a liability thanks to the Square-Cube Law. A creature 3 times the size of a human would have 9 times the surface area and would need to support a whopping 27 times the mass. Throw in the fact that the Draug are mostly aquatic, living in an environment where buoyancy normally helps them counteract at least some of their weight, and you can easily see how Kaiyo's technique could have been successful. It will, of course, not work in the game. Body parts are not targetable and it would subtract somewhat from the epic boss fight if the Warmonger tripped all over himself and fell flat due to his own body weight.

Speaking of Kaiyo, her finishing move is based on Cardiac Arrest, an in-game elite blood ability which has a fairly different animation. It's also not a guaranteed instant kill in the game, and I actually use it there mostly for setting the Impaired state so I can soften up an enemy a bit without worrying about them charging at me.

Yes, the Draug finally showed up in the story! Dan's reference to Boone owing him a beer is a reference back to chapter 6, and Chris and Micah's conversation on the Pale Men (the Draug) happened back in 5. It feels like forever ago since I wrote them, but I'm glad their finally coming back up. Now at last, the characters can begin to get a clue about what's happening on Solomon Island...or at least, think that they do.


	15. Tales of the Draug

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Tales of the Draug**_

_Friday, November 3, 10:15 AM  
Corner of Elm Street and Belmont Avenue, Kingsmouth, Maine_

* * *

We turn back up Elm Street, heading for the relative safety of the Sheriff's Office. I'm eager to leave the corpse of the giant Draug behind, but even so I can't get it out of my head. The grotesque body, the giant claws…and more than that, what its ability to control the undead townsfolk represents. Whatever caused the Fog to descend on Solomon Island, it's evident that the Draug are related to it, if not outright behind it…and there are more of them. I shudder at that thought. Seeing _one_ Draug has been enough to last me a lifetime! I wonder what Sonnac will say.

It's clear Dan and Kaiyo are thinking along similar lines. The normally cheery Japanese girl walks along beside me, seeming self-absorbed, wearing a slight frown that looks out of place on her face. Dan skips right past the pensive-thinking stage however, and digs out a smartphone. By the time we pass the back end of the burned-out gas station, he already has it to his ear. "Kirsten!" he says into the phone. "Yeah, listen, you saw the videos, right?...Well, shit, sorry, I was just asking. ...Yeah, we found it. Something called a _Draug_. …Spell it? Uh…" He claps a hand over the phone and turns to Kaiyo and I. "How the fuck do you spell _Draug_?"

"Um… _D-R-A-U-G_, I guess," I say, working the word out phonetically. "I guess it could be _G-H_ instead." I look over at Kaiyo but she's still sort of zoned out, just staring up the street with that slight frown on her face. I nudge her elbow.

She blinks and looks at me. "Huh?"

"_Draug_, how do you spell it?" Dan asks.

"Oh, Chris was right," Kaiyo says. "It's _D-R-A-U-G_, at least in English. That's the singular, plural, and possessive. The singular is _draugr_ in old Norse, and the plural is _draugar_. In Japanese…"

"Thanks," Dan says, and turns his back on her, relaying the spelling to Kirsten, whom I can only assume to be his contact with the Illuminati.

I turn back to Kaiyo, but she's already back to her own private world, staring up the street and muttering to herself in a language I don't understand—maybe Japanese, but then again, maybe something a lot older. I decide to leave her alone, and try to block out Dan's conversation so I can figure out how I'm going to explain all this to Sonnac when we get back to the Sheriff's Office. I can't help but overhear, though.

"What do you mean no records? Fuck, we've got records on _everything_! …Hey, I'm just saying even Chris had heard of 'em, and she's only been on the inside for, well…for not very long. …She's the Templar agent I told you about. Yeah, well not as inexperienced as I thought, evidently, 'cause she knows about the fucking Draug. …Still nothing? …Yeah, I guess the lack of openness goes along with the whole _Secret War_ business. …No, I'm not going fucking soft, I just think that when we've got a common enemy—… Yeah, well thanks for that latitude. …Yeah, I'll pick their brains. We've got our own little truce worked out here. It's the only reason any of us are still fucking alive. …So that's it? …Well fuck, I could have told you half of that. …A third, fine. …Yeah, it's great to know that they're _ancient_ undead and they go back to Norse mythology. Thank you so fucking much. …Yeah, you know I will. …Yeah, don't worry about it. …Fine, bye." He tucks the smartphone away and stomps up the road, muttering under his breath—but unlike Kaiyo his mutterings seem to be of the more mundane and profane kind. I can understand that. I know I'd be a little put off if Sonnac had never heard of some monster that was common knowledge to the other two factions. I'd at least be concerned.

But something else is distracting me, something Dan and Kaiyo said. Both of them mentioned that the Draug were connected to the Norse. That fact lodges in my mind, like an itch I can't scratch. Then I hear the buzzing in my brain and there's an almost audible click in my head.

The Buzzing coalesces into a voice, the voice I heard before while I was dead. "Our wisdom flows so sweet, taste and see," it says by way of greeting.

_Not you again,_ I think at it, but it doesn't respond.

Instead it just goes on babbling. "TRANSMIT—initiate Odin signal—RECEIVE—initiate Kitaki Manitou frequency—MAKE TIME WORK FOR YOU NOT AGAINST YOU—initiate the Itzamna Protocol—WITNESS—the Darkness War."

"I'd rather not if it's all the same to you," I mutter in reply. I look to Dan and Kaiyo, but neither of them seem to have heard anything. They're too absorbed in their own mutterings, which means the Buzzing is something only I can hear. Lucky me. I fall behind them a little, just in case.

"Oh, but you have no choice, Sweetling," says the Buzzing. "There is no escape. In the cradle of the Nameless Days, the leopard of the smoking mirror shall eat the sun and moon. There is no beginning. There is no end. Invisible mouths devoured them, from either side, as a prelude to a hideous kiss. You will see them in time."

"Yes, yes, doom and the end of the world," I muse. "Tell me something I don't know."

"A runestone stands on Solomon Island. A Viking longship lies half-submerged in a wave of earth, eternally frozen," says the Buzzing. "The Vikings came to Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and Labrador a thousand years ago. This is known to your archeologists. But did they come to New England? This is disputed. But you know, Sweetling, and the runestone knows. Occasionally fair-haired children are born to the native tribes, and a few of the elders will look at one another and nod. They know as well. The stone shouts Norse runes for those with the eyes to hear."

"That was a thousand years ago, and I already knew it. What kind of _Education Protocol_ are you if you can't give me any information that isn't a millennium out of date?" I hiss at the voice.

"What is time to us?" the Buzzing responds, completely nonplussed, even sounding a little amused at my ire. "We stand outside. All things have happened. All things are happening."

"Well then, couldn't you just tell me what's happening on this Island?" I whisper. "Now _that_ would be a _real_ education."

The Buzzing makes an odd noise, like an adult clucking disapprovingly at a child. "Initiate the King James Protocol. The code is 3 and 1. The password is _Ecclesiastes_. Transmit!"

I groan. "It doesn't work that way. My memory isn't…" But then I cut off as the passage comes unbidden to my mind. _To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven_.

The Buzzing chuckles in my brain. "All things in their time, Sweetling. We wouldn't want to spoil your appetite too soon," it says.

"Fine," I mutter. "So at least tell me what the Norse have to do with the Draug."

"Oh, Sweetling, that is a tale!" says the Buzzing. "Initiate the secret histories!" it says, then pauses, as if thinking better of it…though I'm not sure how the term _thinking_ applies to the self-declared voice of sentient language. "Negative," it says at last. "You must ENGAGE the secret histories. We see all, and everything is now. You must go now, Sweetling. Soon your tenses will tangle, as they already have. Time is merely another dimension. There is right and left. There is the X axis and the Y. There is the past and the present. You have only to walk sideways, like a crab, down the curve. Step!"

I hesitate. So confused by what the Buzzing has said that I actually stop in my tracks on my way up Elm Street. Kaiyo looks back at me for a moment, but I wave her on and she continues. Her dark mood seems to have passed already and she skips along brightly till she's passed Dan. When she's safely out of earshot, I resume walking and tell the voice in my head. "I don't think now would be a good time for time travel…and I'm pretty sure it's more involved than _stepping sideways_."

"Oh, but we don't mean step _now_," the Buzzing clarifies. "We mean step in the past, and in the future. You have, and you will witness these events many years before and not many days from now. In your future, the present will be the past."

"I'm pretty sure none of that made any sense," I mutter. "I didn't know it was grammatically possible to say something so completely nonsensical."

The Buzzing chuckles again. "Flattery will get you nowhere with us. Listen to what your eyes will hear in the future's past! We'll disclose the plot before the setting and the characters are revealed, and grant you the SparkNotes version of the coming history," it says in prelude. "Look! The Vikings sail. They lope the waves as wolves. More than just raiders, they are also traders and explorers. They journey to what you just called Maine a thousand years from now, though their purpose is neither to raid nor trade. They came for battle—the ageless battle—the clash of archetypes—an equation that must be computed. You will know it in your own time, as a cub of the secret lion. These conflicts happen in all points of time, across the ages, simultaneous to our omni-faceted eyes. Duality must be vicious."

This is starting to sound a little familiar, like what Micah found out about the Pale Men. "Okay, yeah, I've heard about that. The Vikings brought the Draug to Solomon Island to fight in a war against darkness a thousand years ago. Seriously, you're being outdone by a fifteen year old with access to Google."

"Ah, but the stories lie, Sweetling," says the Buzzing. "The Draug do not come from the Vikings until after. First there is the Fog. Then the island that will be called Solomon, besieged by an invading force of sun worshippers from the far south. Mayans march with monsters. Alliteration and ak'ab! You have met them in a future life. Hope flees the defending natives, but returns in the oddest messengers. Ornate longships take the beach. Norse screams of bloodlust sound. The Wabanaki are joined by fair strangers whose leader wields a sword that glows in the dim. There are events that are supposed to happen—have happened. The Wabanaki and the Vikings should defeat the Mayans. There should be a celebration on the island. The Wabanaki should think the pale-skinned saviors are spirit totems. Then the Vikings will explain that they were sent by a vision from their own gods, told to go west to help a dark-skinned people defeat the Jotun with a weapon gifted by Odin himself. They will tell tales of setting sail, and raiding a small monastery on a desolate island outside of Scotland, where they found a strange device they can only liken to a sword. On their journey a noxious fog overtook them, but the blazing light of the weapon kept it at bay. A few months later, the fog will surround the island."

"Wait, so you're saying the Fog has been here before?" I ask.

"Pardon?" says a gentle man's voice.

I blink, startled. I look up to find Deputy Andy holding the gate open for us and giving me a questioning look. I shake my head. I got so wrapped up in the story the Buzzing was telling me that I didn't even notice we'd arrived at the survivors' compound. "Uh…nothing," I say to Andy. "Just…just talking…to myself. Nothing important."

"Ah, I—I've done plenty of that myself these past days. Heaven knows we've all been under a lot of strain, especially the officers." He shakes his head, looking at the piles of undead littering the fields around the barricade. "Geez, you never saw anything like this in the cop shows…well, maybe on cable. Not the network ones."

I make a conscious effort not to follow his gaze, though I can't help but remember the corpses—and how they got there. "Yeah, this is all pretty new to me too," I confess as I move inside, following Kaiyo and Dan. "I can't say that any of my English lit classes helped prepare me for fighting undead, and surviving a zombie apocalypse wasn't exactly part of the community college's core curriculum."

Andy chuckles a little at that as he closes the gate behind us. "Heh, yeah." He shakes his head. "Sorry you had to see the town like this, Miss Warden. You wouldn't know from lookin' out there now, but before that wicked bad fog rolled in, Kingsmouth was a sleepy little burg—with nothing stronger on the streets than a hot cup of coffee and chocolate glazed donuts from Suzie's."

Dan groans. "Do _not_ talk to me about food, man. I've been swinging this fucking hammer all morning and I haven't eaten a goddamn thing. I feel like my calorie intake is negative in the amount of the national debt."

My stomach rumbles in agreement. "I guess I could do with a bite to eat, too," I say.

"Me, too," says Kaiyo. "Unless someone wants to donate some blood to a worthy cause. I think a cute Japanese girl would qualify." She gives a mischievous grin that shows off her fangs.

"Well you, uh, won't find any blood or donuts, but the Sheriff is serving breakfast inside," says Andy.

"Thank God, I'm starving!" says Dan. He throws his hammer over one shoulder and makes a beeline for the double doors of the Sheriff's Office.

Kaiyo shrugs and follows. "I'll find a proper donor some day, I'm sure," she says as she walks off.

"Yeah, keep sayin' that, but don't look at me," Dan says with a backward look. "I may be hungry, but I can still swing this fucking thing pretty hard, little monster." Then he disappears through the doors and Kaiyo follows him, grinning.

My stomach tells me I should be following them—I haven't eaten a thing since last night, before Kaiyo and I went to see Ms Rogêt—but the Buzzing still hovers in the recesses of my skull, as if waiting for our conversation to continue, and its last words still linger in my mind, haunting me with un-deciphered implications. "Is there someplace private I can go? I need to, um, make a call," I say.

"Yeah, sure, I—uh, I reckon you could just use the corner there under the stairs," Andy tells me, pointing to the same corner I and the other agents have used twice before.

"Thanks," I say, and walk quickly toward it, inwardly berating myself for forgetting the spot so quickly. It's another testament to how much I've allowed this crazy voice in my head to distract me. _And what if that crazy voice is wrong, and it's just wasting my time? What if it's just plain crazy? Or what if _I'm_ the one that's crazy? It could certainly happen, after everything I've been through. They say schizophrenia starts with voices…they also say it starts in young adulthood and can involve some pretty powerful delusions._ I look around myself, suddenly nervous in a way that has nothing to do with the carcasses of the undead lying just beyond the barricade, mere feet away. _What if there aren't any undead? What if I'm not even here? What if I'm really just back in my room in London and all of this is just some paranoid delusion?_ The thought is a disturbing one, upending my reality even as it promises to restore the old familiar rules by which my life and world operated, rules that had nothing to do with supernatural powers (unless you counted the occasional prayer answered through apparent good fortune), magic, voices, or the undead.

"You may wish this world were a mere dreaming of madness, Sweetling," the Buzzing says, stirring and coalescing into a voice once more. "But you know, and you cannot deny what your own hands have spoken in sworn testimony in the witness box of your mind: lightning, fire, and destruction—metal tubes that explode bits of magic and death. With power comes knowledge, and what is learned cannot be unremembered. Disengage the Matrix protocol. The Morpheus syntax is in error. Yes, the red pill will let you spelunk the depths of this rabbit's awful den, but the blue pill is a deadly poison—no waking if there is no dream! Initiate the Pandora paradox. RETURN NOT ALLOWED IF PACKAGING OPENED. Once curiosity has loosed the seal, the only thing that can be put back inside is hope. Will you put it back, Sweetling, and live in a nightmare world you won't believe and can't deny? Or would you like to know how the story has ended, and will end again in a future past?"

I grit my teeth and feel the stock of my rifle, solid in my hands, still sticky from slowly drying gore, my coat crusty with it and my own dried blood…but it's also warm, and the feel of my rifle also reminds me of the good I've accomplished with it, of saving Kaiyo and the survivors, and even occasionally Dan, in his tolerable moments. I take a deep breath and whisper, "Alright. Tell me about the Norse and the Draug. What happened when the Fog last came to this island?"

"When the fog will surround the island in a few days forward and a thousand years back, the Wabanaki medicine man and the Norse gaoi will conduct an exhausting ritual, trapping the evil fog in the Viking's artifact. They will construct a warding circle on the Island and the Norsemen will take the sword with them so the magic can never be undone," says the Buzzing. "That is where the story will end, but listen, an epilogue creeps along with the sound of shuffling, waterlogged feet. Ancient evils are not so easily thwarted! The fog is bound inside the sword, but outside parts of it remain, clinging to the victorious Vikings like barnacles. It starts so small, so harmless. A taint of soot beneath the fingernails. A taste of smoke caught in the throat. That's all that remains outside the sword, but a cancer begins with a single growth. One blighted cell fills the petri dish of the world. So it will begin on their journey home. The filth of the fog runs fingers through the Norsman's nightmares, and in those dreams it finds a name to make real, and that name is Draug. Some longships never return from their journey across the sea. The rest carry an insidious plague back to their villages. The remnant spreads like a virus, unchecked despite the efforts of dreamspeakers and shamans. Even these are soon overcome in their trances. Eventually all walk out to sea as the fog completes its strange metamorphosis, making the Norse nightmares real, and stealing them away into the black mist they thought to escape."

"So the Fog made the Draug, and the Draug were the very Vikings who came to save Solomon Island in the first place?" I shudder at the thought of their fate. "So if the Fog controls the Draug, and the Draug control the zombies, who controls the Fog?"

"You will know the answer when you find it, Sweetling," the Buzzing assures me, already fading into a background hum. "Till then we'll wander the synaptic highways of your mind, waiting for our ride to the next unexpected discovery."

With that the Buzzing fades away again. I try listening to it for a second more, but it does not return. I sigh. I certainly have more questions than answers after talking to it this time…and I'm also very, very hungry. I decide to deal with that problem first.

I head inside. There's a can of lima beans and a plastic spork waiting on the table for me. All the other survivors are scattered in ones or twos across the gutted interior of the building. Conversation is muted. The attacks this morning have shaken everyone. I head to the mattress in the corner, where Kaiyo has saved me a spot. On the way, I catch looks from a couple of the survivors. One woman stares until I catch her looking and she turns quickly away. The other, Deputy Jackson, I think gives me a nod and a little salute before turning back to his canned peaches. I'm not really sure how to respond to either of them. It seems like I've become a celebrity of some sort among the survivors. I guess this is what I get for coming back from the dead.

I prop my rifle against the wall and lay my empty backpack and shotgun down beside it, suddenly feeling the ache in my shoulders, feet, and arms from this morning's activities. My eyes are sore, too, and all I want to do is take off my glasses, lay down on this old mattress, and sleep. But I know the aching of my empty stomach won't give me any rest—that and I know that if I want to complete my mission and save these people, I still have a lot of work to do.

I sit down beside Kaiyo and open my can of veggies with a tool from my Swiss Army knife. I eat a couple spoonfuls in silence. On the other side of the mattress, Dan seems completely absorbed in wolfing down every last piece of noodle in a can of alphabet soup, content with the silence. Kaiyo isn't. She brushes cracker dust off her red leggings, squirms a little, then announces. "Well, I talked to the Dragon, and I have good news."

"You already talked to your boss?" I ask.

Kaiyo nods. "That's what I was doing on my way here!"

I remember her muttering to herself on the way up the hill, but she didn't appear to have a phone or anything else with her. Does she have some spell that lets her speak to them from anywhere? I decide not to pry into that. I'm not sure how much I want to know the answer. "What's the good news?" I ask instead.

"The Dragon has decided that the presence of Draug on the Island is pretty interesting," she announces proudly. "That means I'll be staying till Monday at least!"

"Vat's mucking pantastic," Dan says around a mouthful, then swallows. "We've got one fucking weekend to figure out what happened here and put a stop to it before the Dragon goes fucking ADD on us and runs off chasing shiny."

"I'm sure we'll find something else interesting over the weekend," Kaiyo says defensively. "And there's _nothing_ _wrong_ with shiny!"

I lean forward a bit to meet Dan's eyes. "What about you?" I ask.

Dan shrugs. "What _about_ me?" he says. "My boss still wants fucking answers, a damage assessment, and the head of whoever's behind all this. I'm 0 for 3, and until that changes, I'm stuck here. You?"

"I'm not going anywhere," I say firmly. "Not until we've solved this thing and put an end to it."

Dan nods. "Typical Templar, though under the circumstances I'm glad to hear it," he says. "I don't know how our bosses will feel about working together though, in _any_ capacity."

I bite my lip. "I haven't talked to Sonnac yet," I admit. "I should."

"Yeah, but finish that can first, or give it to me if you're not hungry," Dan says. "There's no fucking way to tell how long this calm in the shitstorm will last."

_…And just like that, the moment of comradery is broken_, I think to myself, spooning out some more lima beans. They're not my typical breakfast by a longshot—I actually can't remember the last time I ate them—but they're better than nothing.

Dan, seeing that I'm not planning on turning the can over, gets up to look for one of his own. He leaves his hammer propped against the wall. Kaiyo glances at it longingly. One hand stretches out toward it. I clear my throat to get her attention, then shake my head. The last thing I need is for Kaiyo to hurt herself trying to steal Dan's magic hammer, or to take him out by actually succeeding.

Kaiyo sighs, then yawns. "I think I'll find some place to take a nap," she says. "I don't know how you can do it, staying up all day. It always makes me so drowsy at night!"

"That's…kind of the point," I say, but Kaiyo is already wandering way, toward one of the torn couches lying against the wall, where her backpack waits with the big leather book sticking out of the top. I kind of wish I could curl up with a good book and take a nap myself, but I have to call Sonnac…and my brother. I can't just leave things unresolved between us like they were last night.

I finish my breakfast, such as it is, and head back out to the private corner under the stairs to make my calls. I dial Sonnac's number first.

He picks up on the first ring. "Ah, good afternoon, Chris, though I suppose it would still be morning there," he says quickly. "I was expecting your call. Footage from your latest adventure has caused quite a stir around here. We've managed to identify your opponent."

"A Draug," I say.

"You've heard of them?"

"Kaiyo mentioned the name," I say. "Unless I'm mistaken, they're the same creatures that my brother found on that local's blog, the ones he called the Pale Men."

"Ah, yes, Miss Yako's education on occult creatures has certainly been…extensive," says Sonnac. "It has been a long time since anything more than rumors of contact with the Draug surfaced. We have records of previous conflicts, of course, but they are…ancient records."

"What kind of conflicts are we talking about?" I ask. "Anything like what's happening here?"

"In a word, no," says Sonnac. "Certainly there's been plenty to prove an association with unnatural fog, dependence on the sea, and control over lesser undead, however according to a cursory examination of our records all previous Draug activity has been more…limited in scale. They are the source of a hundred ghost ship tales and have preyed on seafaring nations for a millennia. Their targets, however, have invariably been ships, drowning the crews, and absconding with the vessels. It's theorized that a so-called _Isle of Dead Ships_ exists in the Sargasso Sea, where the Draug keep their prizes. Locating it has proved not impossible but…problematic. The Sargasso is vast and not safely to be explored."

"What's the Sargasso Sea?" I ask.

"An area of the North Atlantic," Sonnac answers. "A great gyre thousands of kilometers across in which the ocean currents deposit refuse, seaweed, derelict ships, and the occasional forgotten secrets best left undiscovered. Your brother could probably tell you more."

"He could," I admit, but at the moment I don't want to ask him. I still remember what he told me last night about hacking into a secure Illuminati database at Sonnac's behest. "I don't want to get him involved," I say.

"I'm not certain that decision is up to you," says Sonnac.

"Well it's not up to you either!" I retort.

There's silence for a long, tense moment. When Sonnac speaks again, his voice is softer. "I…apologize, it seems I've struck a nerve. My choice of words was…poor," he says. "What I meant to say was that _neither_ of us can make decisions concerning Micah Warden's involvement on his behalf. He is an independent young man, his own person."

"He's fifteen years old and he shouldn't be put in danger like this," I say. "You shouldn't have asked him to do what you did."

"_Shouldn't_ and _mustn't_ are not always the same thing," Sonnac says. "There should be no need to say this in present circumstances, but if I must, I shall remind you that we are at war. Solomon Island has fallen to the forces of an unknown darkness and over a thousand people are dead—or worse. We are still in the dark as to what exactly has attacked the island and whether or not it is a beachhead for a larger invasion. Meanwhile a hundred crises of similar magnitude are unfolding across the globe as we speak, stretching our considerable resources to the limit. We cannot afford—the _world_ cannot afford—to turn down willing help wherever it is offered."

"And how do you plan on protecting him?" I demand. I don't wait for an answer though. I already know the plan, _Get him and Dad on the Protected Person's List with the Council of Venice_. But from everything I've heard about the Council, that could be an interminably long process. "He's just a kid in high school," I say. "I just want him to have a normal life!"

"And have you considered what it is your brother wants?" Sonnac asks pointedly.

I remain silent, cheeks burning with an odd mix of anger at his implication and embarrassment that he might be right.

"If your own character and behavior is any judge, your brother loves you very much. Were he capable, I've no doubt he would quite literally move Heaven and Earth for you. You cannot place yourself in grave jeopardy and expect him to stand idly by if there is something, anything, he can do to aid you," says Sonnac. "In addition, he is and always has been curious about the Secret World. You arguably live the life he would have chosen for himself, had fate given him the opportunity."

"I know," I say, bowing my head. "I guess that's what makes me so afraid. I don't want him to go through any of this. I want him to stay safe."

"I understand the desire, but we all need family, especially in times of crisis, such as this. Do not deny yourself that help and support when you need it most. Do not deny him the opportunity to give it, and also to fulfill his own desires as well," Sonnac counsels.

I sigh and close my eyes for a minute. I don't want to admit it, but I know Sonnac is right. I want to protect my little brother, but this isn't the way. "I'll talk to him," I promise.

"Good," says Sonnac. "If both he and you are willing, we could use his assistance looking into our old records on the Draug and trying to correlate it with their most recent activities. His help would be especially appreciated in the analysis of possible recent sightings of the creatures, elsewhere in the world."

He leaves unsaid another pair of facts: researching modern Draug appearances elsewhere would also keep Micah's mind off of the horrors of everything I've seen here on Solomon Island. It would also give him advance notice if the disaster here turns into something worldwide. "Alright," I say. "I'll ask him." I check my watch. "He should be getting out of his first class soon. I should let you go."

"Yes, good," says Sonnac. "I trust you'll exercise due caution out there. The Draug may be the responsible party we seek, and they may not. We'll need any information on them you can find, but above all you must be careful. They pose a distinctly greater risk than the more ordinary undead."

"I'll be careful," I promise, then I say goodbye.

The next number I dial is Micah's. It takes him a second to answer, and when he does there's the background chatter of a crowded high school hallway. "Hey, Sis. What's up?" he asks, though in a slightly more subdued tone than he otherwise would have.

It's that wounded tone, really, that makes up my mind for me. "I owe you an apology," I say to him. "I…I guess I overreacted last night. I freaked out, and I shouldn't have."

"Well yeah," he says. "You know I'm an excellent hacker."

I shake my head. "I also know you're a little cocky sometimes," I say. "But it's your decision to get involved and I shouldn't have tried to change it for you. I'm just worried about you."

"Yeah, well I guess I can play it safe so you don't prematurely give yourself an ulcer," he teases.

I manage to smile a little at that. "Thanks," I say.

"Did you get my email?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I haven't had time to figure out how that works on my phone yet."

"Oh, right, I guess the whole being dead and coming back thing took you out for a little bit."

"Not for very long, but yeah."

"Well I'm…" He cuts off momentarily with a sort of scuffling noise and a loud call of _"Watch where you're goin' dweeb!"_ from someone else. I bite my lip at the overheard abuse, but I know my brother. He's probably already shrugged it off. A second later, he's back. "I'm kinda gonna be late to my next class if I don't hurry, and Dad said he'd revoke my internet access if I failed this next test in History," he says.

"I guess I'd better let you go then," I say.

"Yeah, so rain check on the full story of the adventures of Big Sis on the Isle of the Undead," Micah says. "But you're not off the hook entirely. Seriously, call me tonight when I get home from school."

"I'll do my best," I say. "Things have been…busy here." I pause. "Sonnac wanted me to ask you something."

Micah's voice immediately perks up. "Oh, what's that?"

"He wanted you to do some more research, but not anything illegal this time," I say. "He needs information on the Draug."

"The Draug? Those tomb-guys from Skyrim?"

"Uh…no," I say. I was never into that game, and my brother only ever got to play the demo and watch it online, when he wasn't too busy looking up footage of Bigfoot. "They're the Pale Men you were talking about. We found one of them, on the island."

"You did?!"

"Yeah," I say. "We're safe for now, and it's dead, but Sonnac wants to know everything he can on them." I quickly relay the information he gave to me. Then, on a whim, I add, "While you're at it, you might want to look at anything mentioning Viking and Mayan activity on the Island, about a thousand years ago."

"I'll look into it for sure," says Micah, sounding eager. "I guess this means I gotta ace this history test, huh?"

"Good luck," I say. "I'll be praying for you."

"Yeah, you too, Sis," he says. Then a bell rings loudly in the background. "Got to go!" he shouts, and the call ends.

I lower the phone. For a wistful moment, I wish I could switch places with my brother. He always wanted super-powers and secret conspiracies. I always wanted a normal life, maybe with a little writing on the side. _If he could be here, and I could be there, in high school…_ It's that last thought that stops me. I shudder. High school was not a pleasant experience for me, nor one I would ever wish to repeat. The social awkwardness, the cliques, the miserable crushes I nursed on a couple boys who just didn't see me that way… Really, it makes me question the sanity of all of those bad-fiction immortals who voluntarily go to high school over and over again as part of some elaborate charade. I mean, seriously, what kind of a sick masochist would want to go to high school forever?

I take a moment to contemplate the question, letting myself feel, for a second, the familiar concerns of simpler times—when my biggest worry was getting a paper in on time. Then the moment passes. The big biker, Moose, sticks his head around the corner. "Ah, I thought I'd find you back here," he says and waves to me. "Come on, I got something I want you to see. I think I have some ideas that could seriously improve our firepower in case of another attack."

I nod and follow him, leaving the corner and the irrelevant question behind for another time. The Secret World waits for no one.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for your compliments and support! Yeah, I do feel like battles that boil down to a stoic exchange of blows are kind of uninteresting, same for battles which contain so much strategy and setup that they leave no room for the action and everything on one side dies as soon as the first shot is fired. Both have their place, of course, but in general I think a balance is best. That's one thing I really like about The Secret World, actually. While it is difficult, if not impossible, to remove the aspect of clicking your enemy to death from a video game, The Secret World manages to make strategy, positioning, and tactics a vital and interesting part of its combat system.

But the time has come to wind down from the Warmonger battle and set the stage for the next adventure! While as a first time player, I didn't realize it at first, now with the benefit of the backstory to review, I can see that the introduction of the Draug is a major revelation, and is really the first piece of the puzzle that players will begin to put together to understand what's happening on the island. As such, it should be properly reported...which is a good time to tie up some loose ends!

Dan's conversation is based on the Illuminati faction mission report from the "Elm Street Blues" mission, expanded and reworked as dialogue (and then with Kirsten Geary's parts cut out, as Chris can only hear Dan's end of the conversation). Something interesting I noticed from comparing the various faction reports was that only the Illuminati expressed surprise at the report and confessed to having no records on the Draug. The other two factions had historical records on them (something the Illuminati message nods its head toward, with a curt: "Other factions have encountered them at sea. Of course, file-sharing isn't common practice in the industry."), but the Illuminati were more or less in the dark. I'm not sure why this should be, but I kept it in my version. It does make sense that the factions would have varying degrees of familiarity with different parts of the Secret World, especially since they keep everything secret from each other, because...well, because it's in the title of the game...

Kaiyo's little entomology lesson is accurate. While the game uses _Draug_ as the singular, plural, and possessive name for the creatures, the word is originally Norse and has a singular _draugr_ and plural _draugar_. I don't know of any true equivalent in Japanese. They are also used as a bad guy in the Skyrim video games, apparently.

Dan has quite a bit of snark in his conversation with Kirsten. I personally don't think it would be wise to antagonize one's Illuminati handler, who in the game frequently makes casual death-threats to the player, but then again I can't really see Dan turning down the volume on the snide remarks, especially if he's talking to someone who's going to give him the same in return. It's also worth considering that, as Kirsten is undoubtedly the one responsible for sending Dan into the field this first time, she isn't his most favorite person in the world right now.

The Buzzing returns! Arguably, this is not a level appropriate Lore here. The Buzzing's dialogue is mostly pulled from The Darkness War Lore, which is found in a dungeon of the same name in the Blue Mountain zone of the island. However, it seemed appropriate to introduce it here, while Chris is first becoming aware of the Draug's connection to the Norse. The Lore makes reference to the fact that the player has essentially traveled back in time to the actual events of the Darkness War during the dungeon. I kept those references, but tweaked them to refer to a possible _future_ instance of time travel...which means, someday: "Lit Major Travels Back in Time." A lot of story to go through first, though!

Time travel, is, of course, more involved than stepping sideways. Mostly it involves driving a souped up DeLorean at 88 mph...either that or taking a Klingon bird-of-prey for a spin around the sun. The omniscience that is Google, however, makes time-travel unnecessary. Even if you need to go back and change the past, I'm pretty sure they have a free app for that.

The reference to alliteration isn't in the original, but when I noticed it in the original lore entry, I couldn't resist. If the Buzzing didn't point it out, Chris would have hung a lampshade on it for sure.

I wonder what Andy would say if he knew _The Walking Dead_ was on network TV? Hmmm... Anyway, I think it's pretty clear by now to everyone in our culture that zombie preparedness should be a part of every education establishment's core curriculum. Clearly Chris' community college education is inadequate.

Donating blood to cute Japanese vampires is always a worthy cause...but usually a dangerous one!

Not all cases of hearing voices involve schizophrenia. Probably not even the majority do. In fact, researchers have been discovering that there are a number of people out there with "auditory hallucinations" who actually find them to be positive impacts on their mental and emotional health, actually helping to drive them _away from_ psychosis rather than toward it. This is interesting to me... Having Chris as a crazy unreliable narrator all along would have also been interesting—and somehow personally terrifying—but for me that's much too meta. Granted, I'm not sure that throwing in obligatory references to _The Matrix_'s redpill-bluepill scene, Pandora's Box, and various retailer's return policies is pretty meta all by itself, but hopefully in a way that doesn't break the story.

The second part of the Buzzing's story is pulled in large part from the description of the Draug on the game's official site. While the origins of the Draug are alluded to in the game (even featuring a character who appears as a Viking ally in The Darkness War dungeon and a Draug in the Polaris dungeon), there is no outright confirmation of this or description of their change in the game itself. However, since the official website lists the information, I'm going to consider it canon.

I wanted to give Kaiyo a less mundane mode of communication than a smartphone. I figured it would be more in keeping with her character if she used something arcane instead. I also honestly am using this as a possible retcon explanation for what she was doing in that scene where she was muttering a strange language while holding her book, thereby keeping Chris away from the phonebook for that scene.

Interestingly, the Sargasso Sea is a real place, a part of the North Atlantic isolated by surrounding currents and into which seaweed and garbage float. It does not, to my knowledge, contain any Draug, however. The Protected Persons List is a fiction I invented back in _Lit Major Shoots Lightning_.

_Why would anyone want to go to high school forever?_ is a question I've often asked myself. It's just a bit of "fridge logic" that hits me after watching or hearing about some book or movie where the immortal hides in plain sight by pretending to be a normal kid and attending school...forever! High school, honestly, was not my favorite time of my life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, much less voluntarily subject myself to it when I could just play hooky forever...or, you know, get a job.


	16. How to Build Bombs and Influence People

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**How to Make Bombs and Influence People**_

_Friday, November 3, 12:30PM  
Sheriff's Office, Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

I follow Moose out from under the stairs to a workbench he's set up against the barricade. It consists of a battered wooden picnic table with a missing bench on the far side, which is shoved up against the chainlink fence. A wide variety of parts are laid out on the table, some of which I recognize as coming from everyday objects, like a Frisbee, a dinner plate, and a few books of matches. The way they're assembled here certainly isn't everyday, though. The Frisbee and dinner plate are held together with screws, with the plate on top like some kind of lid. The books of matches have been arranged one inside of another to form a long flattened core. Then there are a lot of other assemblies on the table I can't even begin to identify.

It seems I'm not the only one baffled by the devices on the workbench. Kaiyo is there and she eyes them curiously. She pokes one with a cautious finger, then sticks her lip out in a pout when nothing happens. "I thought you said you had some more powerful weapons out here, Moose_-san_, but nothing on this table is cursed, or even mildly enchanted!"

"You don't need any of that shit with a setup like this," says Dan, looking it over and smiling. "What you've got here is a professional IED assembly lab."

"IED?" Kaiyo repeats, brushing her hair back from her face, and turning curious red eyes on Dan. "What's that stand for? Ichor from Exhumed Dolphins?" She scrunches up her face in thought. "Actually, that might be a useful ingredient in certain spells, _if_ you mixed it with powdered lynx spleen…"

"Ugh!" Dan backs away from her and holds up a hand as if to ward off the explanation. "Seriously, Little Monster? TMI!"

"Tough, Mangled Intestines?"

"Too Much Fucking Information!"

Kaiyo frowns and crinkles her nose. "But that's four letters."

"So is _Ichor from fucking Exhumed Dolphins_," says Dan.

"Yeah, technically that was five," says Kaiyo.

I interrupt before the pointless argument can spiral completely out of control. "IED stands for Improvised Explosive Device," I explain.

"Improvised…" Kaiyo's red eyes light with understanding, then alarm. She quickly backs away from the workbench. "You mean they're _bombs!_"

"Relax, my friend," Moose says, stepping up to the workbench and waving a screwdriver over the assemblies on top of it. "I've plenty of experience blowin' shit up. I've got a handle on death and the instruments thereof and no desire to see the infinite darkness claim any of us quite yet. These mechanical servants of the Reaper will stay still and silent till I'm good and ready to push that button—the more so because these ones aren't even complete yet."

"Yeah, looks like you're missing a few things," Dan says, examining the workbench. "Mostly you don't have shit to work with in terms of combustibles, except gasoline, and there's only so fucking much you can do with that."

"Exactly," says Moose. "I've got no shortage of time or ideas, but what I'm lacking is the nuts and bolts of it." He hands a sheet of paper to Dan. "I've got my shopping list, and I could fill up a cart just goin' down Main Street. But gettin' there and back…that's what's kickin' my ass. I may know the Secret World, but I don't have any of the powers you three use to navigate its dangers, only the power of these two hands." He holds up calloused, grease-stained fingers. "I've spent the better part of two decades on the road, my friends, and I've learned that there is not a loose bolt these hands can't tighten, not a broken transmission they cannot fix. You give me a handful of nails and some wood, and I'll build you a house. But when the undead came marching in this morning, and worse besides…well, I couldn't have done half of what any one of you did to them."

"So you need us to do a supply run for you," I say.

Moose nods.

"Sure thing," says Dan.

I shoot him a surprised look. "I thought you didn't run errands."

"Normally, no, but this is important," says Dan, handing off the list to Kaiyo. "Besides, it's not every day you get to build fucking bombs from household objects."

I crack a smile. "Aww, you're a closet pyro! I never would have guessed!" I tease.

"Shut it," Dan shoots back, though he's smiling as well.

Kaiyo is frowning at the list, though. "There's not a single magical item on this entire list!" she says. "I never knew building bombs was so…boring."

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it," says Dan.

"Well, I won't be trying it today," she says, handing the list back to Dan. "One of us should stay here and take care of any zombies that get back up…and anyway I'm still tired."

"Then take a nap, you little monster," Dan says. "Chris and I'll handle this, right?"

I nod. "Let me get my backpack."

A few minutes later, Deputy Andy lets Dan and I out onto Arkham Avenue. I've taken the opportunity to change into the fitted exercise top with built-in holster pockets, hoping that it will keep me cool under the bulky coat. Once I'm out in the early afternoon sun, though, it's clear that the lighter top alone isn't going to cut it. I reluctantly unzip the coat, sacrificing a bit of protection to let the cool autumn air in against my skin. I struggle a little with the zipper, since I'm trying to work it one-handed while holding on to the stock of my assault rifle.

I look up and catch Dan eyeing me. He lets out a low whistle and grins wolfishly. "I dig the new duds, babe," he says. "Shame you threw out that wardrobe-malfunction from yesterday, though."

I glare at him over my glasses. "Do you _want_ me to kill you?"

"Heh, not particularly," Dan says. He's still smiling, but he does take a step back and look me in the eyes instead of…lower. "Touchy subject, huh?"

"Yeah, that was my favorite jacket, and getting lit on fire hurt about as much as you'd expect, if not more," I say. "As for the wolf-whistle—well, _you_ try living through it for a few years in high school—as a girl—and see if you still like it."

He doesn't get the hint, and instead arches his eyebrows playfully. "Bet you got plenty of attention, eh, babe?"

"Yeah, the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of guys—people like you," I retort.

Dan winces. "Ouch, burn!" He shrugs. "I guess I had that fucking coming. Sorry for, you know, lookin' you over while you were down."

"While I was down?" I repeat. "You mean you were looking me over while I was _dead_?"

Dan draws back. "What? No, I'm not a fucking necrophile! I meant when you were fucking, you know, metaphorically down, after you got burned."

"Oh," I say, calming down. Considering what he said while we were—well, while _he was_—standing over my body last night, I'm inclined to believe him. "Sorry," I say, and change the subject. "What's on the list?"

He pulls it out and glances at it, apparently not too affected by our argument. "Propane tanks," he says at last. "The kind they use on camping stoves."

"That makes sense," I say. "Anything with propane in it could be dangerous." I mean, they write big warning labels that say _Danger:_ _explosive!_ on them for a reason, right?

Dan nods. "They're great if you want something burned or frozen."

"Frozen?" I repeat.

"Yeah, like how people get frosted nostrils from huffing canned air," Dan explains. I give him a blank look and he shakes his head. "Look, just trust me on this. They'll be fucking useful."

I nod, more out of acknowledgement than understanding. Bomb-building isn't exactly a subject I'm familiar with, but at least I know where we can find some propane canisters. "A lot of gas stations either sell them or let you recycle old ones there," I say. "A lot of that happens outside, so the cans could still be intact after the fire gutted the interior of the gas station on the corner."

"Yeah, I think I saw some while I was there," says Dan. "I just had…_bigger_ things on my mind, you know?" I chuckle at the joke in spite of myself and he smiles. "Come on, let's go."

We make our way back down the hill to the burned-out gas station. There are no zombies to be seen—or none that are still moving anyway—but the body of the Draug giant remains. I hold my nose as I approach it. It's literally simmering in the sunlight: pale blue and pink flesh is melting and boiling away. I avert my eyes and stay as far away from it as I can.

"God! I thought it smelled bad before!" Dan coughs and holds the oversized collar of his trenchcoat over his face.

I say nothing. I wish I could _breathe_ nothing. Even with my nose pinched shut, I can _taste_ the rotten-clam smell coming off of the corpse. My eyes water and I feel sick to my stomach. We hurry around to the far side of the building, where a bin with a few small tanks inside waits. We grab them, stuff them into my backpack as quickly as we can, then run back up the hill.

Halfway up, we stop, panting in the uncorrupted air. I drink it down like water, trying not to cough in between breaths.

"That…" Dan says, through his own labored breathing, "that was…the worst shit…I've ever…smelled."

I nod in agreement—though in truth the smell reminds me unpleasantly of the Filth. I can't say for sure which was fouler. I change the subject. "What's next…on the list?"

"Ball bearings," says Dan. "We'll use them for projectiles. Hardware store probably has 'em." I flinch involuntarily at the mention of the place. Dan sees it. "What?" he asks.

"The hardware store is also where the _anima_-powered robot ambushed me," I say, touching my chest unconsciously, where I was burned.

Dan misses a step as we come around the corner to Arkham Avenue, then resumes his gait. "Fuck. Well, there are always ball bearings in bikes and shit. According to the note, we should find plenty of those down by the park."

"The park where I died?"

"Yeah." He turns and gives me a lopsided smile. "You know, I think you're past the legal limit on fucking injury stories for one town and one day."

I smile in spite of myself. "It _is_ the zombie apocalypse, after all," I say. "And I heal well."

"You heal fucking fantastic," says Dan, grinning. But then his grin vanishes suddenly. "Looks like you're not the only one, though."

He points his hammer at a cluster of zombies tearing apart and chewing on something in a front yard. A white picket fence stands between us and them, and I'm thankful for the barrier, even if the gate has been knocked off its hinges. At least the fence prevents me from seeing what it is the zombies are eating. Hopefully, it will keep them from noticing us, too. I shoulder my AK-47 just in case, though.

"A couple of 'em looked like fuckers we killed yesterday," Dan remarks once we're past.

I deliberately _don't_ look back. "At least they aren't attacking the barricade anymore," I say.

We move on down the avenue. About block further on, Dan stops and points at something half hidden under a foot-tall hedgerow. "Fuck yes," he says, smiling. "We got our first bike!"

I see the bike lying just on the edge of the pavement. As we approach it, though, I notice a strange shadow underneath. It's not until I step up beside it that I realize what it is: not a shadow at all, but a dark, crusty bloodstain smearing along the asphalt under the bike and leading away from it into the road before vanishing. I also see that the handlebars of the bike, which are directly above the center of the stain, are broken with one sharp end pointing almost straight up. Something that looks like a long, deflated sausage coils around them and I nearly gag as I realize what it is. Fortunately, the body is nowhere to be found.

"Unlucky break for whatever bastard found this before us," Dan remarks. "But we should still be able to get some ball bearings out of it. Keep an eye out for me." With that, he sets to work, bringing his hammer down on the handlebars repeatedly, breaking them into pieces and smashing those pieces off of the frame. In the process, he also crushes the intestine that's draped over the handlebars, causing it to crumble like a dried leaf in the afternoon sun.

I look quickly away and try to think of something—anything—else. I settle on a question about, of all things, bomb making. "I've heard of using nails as projectiles in bombs. Why not use those instead of ball bearings? Nails are sharp, and easier to find."

"Ball bearings are heavier," says Dan. "Projectiles don't need to be sharp if they're going fast enough. We do our job right on the fucking explosives, and all that'll matter with the projectiles will be their fucking mass." He eyes me askance. "I thought you'd know this already, since you play with guns and stuff. Bullets aren't terribly pointy, you know."

"I guess I never thought about it that way," I say, a little defensive. "My parents didn't let me play with bombs while I was growing up. They were the overprotective sort, I guess."

Dan huffs, slamming down his hammer. "Mine didn't give a flying fuck what I did. My old man left when I was eight. My mom was too drunk or high half the time to even know I was there. I pretty much did whatever the fuck I wanted. The wrong side of the tracks has its advantages." He smirks as he says this, but I think I see something else in his eyes: sorrow, pain.

I lower my eyes. "Sorry," I say. "I didn't know." After a pause I offer, "My mother died in a car accident when I was eight. Dad…he's always been a little overprotective—I mean _actually_ overprotective—of me and my brother since that."

Dan pauses in his work and looks up at me. "Well, I guess we've both got the tragic backstory part of being big damn heroes covered," he says finally. He grins at his own joke, but I catch a glimpse of something else as his mouth turns down just as he turns away. Maybe it's relief, maybe regret. He resumes picking through the pieces of what is now a thoroughly mangled bicycle. "I guess you never got to do anything fun when you were growing up then?"

"If you mean _dangerous_, no, not really," I say. "In fact, if my dad knew where I was and what I was doing right now, he'd probably have a heart attack, an ulcer, and a liter of kittens all at once, then try to come straight over and 'rescue' me from all of this." I wave my hand vaguely at the apocalyptic town which is, I'm sure, _far_ beyond my father's ability to handle—not that he wouldn't try.

Dan guffaws and pockets a handful of grimy metal spheres the size of gumballs.

"But if by _fun_ you mean something I'd actually _enjoy_," I continue, ignoring him. "Then, yeah, I got to have plenty of fun."

"And what does a Bee consider fun?" he asks, straightening.

"I wasn't a Bee until two weeks ago, you know," I say. "Before that I was just an ordinary girl."

"So, shopping, shoes, and boys?" Dan asks.

I stick out my tongue and scrunch up my face to express how I feel about _those_ choices. "A _real_ ordinary girl, not a stereotype," I correct him. "I hate shopping, only own two pairs of shoes—three if you count snow boots—and I'd rather talk about literature or television than boys any day."

Dan raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. He's quite for a moment while we resume making our way down the street toward the park. At last he says, "When you say _TV_, I'm guessing you don't mean shit like _Friends_ or _Sex in the City_?"

I shake my head quickly. "Star Trek mostly."

"The movies?"

"That depends on which ones you're talking about," I say.

Dan shoots me a confused look. "I thought there were only two."

I shake my head, then do some quick mental arithmetic. "There are twelve, if you count the new ones. Then there are four TV series, three of which ran for seven seasons. And that doesn't count the animated series or any fan works, or books…" I smile at him. "There's a _lot_ of Star Trek out there!"

"No shit!" he says, evidently impressed. We're quiet for a minute as we approach another group of zombies, mauling something in a bush. He raises his hammer and it shimmers with blue fire, but the zombies are so absorbed in whatever it is they're chewing on that they don't notice us. We pass on. Dan smirks at me. "Looks like my fucking cultural education is lacking."

I smile again. "It's okay. You learned bombs. I learned Star Trek." Then the smile fades, for at the moment it seems like he had the more useful education.

We make it to the park without incident. There's a bike laying by the swing set and a tricycle standing in the sandbox. A second bike is leaning against the fence. Dan uses his hammer to ruthlessly disassble each in turn, retrieving a handful of ball bearings from each place where a moving part joins the frame. He fills his coat pockets with them, then starts handing the rest to me. I fill the side pockets of my backpack. By the time they're full, all of the bikes and tricycles in the park are in pieces.

"That should be enough," Dan says at last.

"What's next?" I ask.

"Diesel and cat litter."

I raise my eyebrows and push up my glasses, startled by the odd combination. But then, I have to admit I know nothing about building bombs. "The gas station would have been perfect for diesel—if the pumps hadn't burned to a crisp. As it is, I have no idea where we'll find either of those."

"Well, we've got some options with the diesel, but they're both fucking terrible," says Dan. "We can either search the roads for a truck and siphon the tank…"

"There's a lot of road, and a lot of zombies on the roads—and so far I haven't seen anything that I'm positive runs on diesel," I say.

"Exactly," says Dan. "The other option is we look for a fishing trawler. Note says they run on diesel and a lot of them ran aground after the Fog. If we search the shore long enough, we should find one."

"We're on an island," I say. "There's a _lot_ of shore."

"I know." Dan sighs. "Cat litter seems about the same. The nearest general store that might have it is on the fucking other side of the island. That leaves us searching homes for the stuff, and the only person Moose was sure owned cats in this fucking town was some couple who ran a bed and breakfast joint. Something called _Journey's End_—wherever the fuck that is."

"Journey's End?" The name jogs my memory. I pull out the tourist map from my pocket and unfold it. "Here it is," I say, pointing to a stylized drawing of a large house, labeled _Journey's End_ in italic script. "According to this it's at the end of Belmont Avenue."

"Which is?" asks Dan.

"This way," I say, pointing. "It's the road that circles the harbor on this side."

We head off, leaving the park through a gap in the decorative black metal fence—which was obviously note intended to stand up to zombies…or sedans. One of the latter has plowed halfway through the barrier. Its doors are open, it's hood crumpled, but there's no sign of its occupants. I try not to think about what their fate might have been. Instead, I take the lead and we move past it, down the hill to the harbor. It's not as steep here as at the police station, which makes me think we must have been moving subtly downhill all the way to the park.

At the intersection with Belmont, we find a boxy blue and white male truck stopped at the corner. It's plowed into the stopsign, actually, and there are some blood splatters in the interior. A trio of zombies are knelt down beside it, ripping open the letters and packages and stuffing the paper in their mouths, only to spit it back out again, over and over. I look away from them, disgusted. We try to avoid them by going around the far side of the truck. I can still hear their gurgling cries from here, though. I cringe and quicken my pace.

But that's a mistake. The moment I clear the end of the mail truck, I find myself face-to-face with a gray-skinned zombie in a bloodstained pink dress. It lunges toward me, but stumbles over the one high heel it's still wearing. Its cold fingers swipe past less than a quarter inch from my eyes. They catch my glasses and rip them off.

I cry out in surprise and jump back, pulling the trigger on my rifle instinctively, firing a long burst into the zombie's torso. It doubles over, hisses, and falls to the asphalt.

But the other zombies have heard the commotion. They scream half-strangled cries and come running around the mail truck, arms flailing—seeking something living to latch on to. Dan pushes me out of the way. He meets the first zombie with an upward swing of his hammer. The blow sends the zombie's head flying. It crashes through a window and into the interior of the Victorian two-story house on the corner. As for the headless corpse, it stumbles sideways and falls. Dan follows up with a downward stroke to the next zombie. Its head shatters like a watermelon on a gun range. I'm glad that with out my glasses I can't see it clearly.

The third zombie lunges for Dan while he's still off-balance from his opening strikes, unable to defend himself. My rifle is already raised, though my vision is blurry. I focus all my energy on hitting my target, and hitting hard. I have to make this one shot count, for Dan's sake as well as my own!

I pull the trigger. The zombie's head snaps back in a spray of red. Its body falls limp at Dan's feet.

"Fuck!" Dan says. He jumps back from the corpse, then looks at me. "Hell of a shot," he says.

"Thanks," I say, still trying to slow my rapid breathing. I try to cover my receding panic by bending over and searching the ground for my glasses.

"Do you really need these?" Dan asks.

I turn to find him holding my glasses—which thankfully haven't been damaged. "Of course I need them," I say, snatching them away and putting them quickly back on. "I'm not blind without them,b ut it's nice to be able to read road signs from more than ten feet away."

"Fucking shame," he remarks. "You've got a very pretty face."

I'm not at all sure how to take that. Instead I opt to glare at him. "Let's just get to Journey's End before I have to shoot you," I say. I turn and set a brisk pace down the road.

"Touchy about that too?" he asks, easily keeping up with me down the empty street.

"Not really," I say, "but since you basically just said I look ugly with my glasses on…"

"Fuck no!" he interrupts, defensive. "I did _not_ say that. You're fucking beautiful, don't you get that babe? Your face looks great with glasses, and fucking fantastic without 'em."

I'm caught completely off guard by the compliments. I almost stumble. I catch myself just in time. I don't think anyone has ever called me beautiful, aside from maybe my Dad. It's utterly unexpected from Dan. I have no idea how to respond to it. I don't think I'm blushing, but I turn away just in case. I certainly don't want him to see _that!_

Behind me, Dan huffs. "Jesus! What the hell does it take for you to accept a fucking compliment?!"

I round on him, furry overcoming embarrassment. "Maybe I'd accept one if you'd stop swearing every other word!" It's a reflexive response, something I don't even think about, which I feel at the moment is good, because I have no idea how to even _start_ thinking about this conversation.

To my surprise, Dan's response isn't anger. Instead, he asks, "What, does that bother you?"

"Yeah," I say. "And it sounds immature, like you're compensating for something." I give him a look that's more honest than I mean to be, but after his compliments it's not something I think about either. It just sort of comes out as I say, "You don't need to compensate for anything."

That seems to catch him off-guard as well. We stop there in the middle of the deserted street for a moment, just staring at each other: a small-town girl and a big city boy, a Templar and an Illuminati…unlikely allies in ground zero of a zombie apocalypse. I wonder how he'll respond to what I said. I wonder why on Earth I said it. Dan looks me in the eye and lifts his thinly bearded chin. "You really think it'd help my image?" he asks.

I give a small nod, feeling suddenly too timid to speak aloud.

Dan shrugs. "Well, heck, I'll try anything once."

I giggle.

"What?" Dan asks.

I shake my head. I'm not about to tell him he broke his resolution in the very sentence he made it.

"Well, if I'm gonna try to stop swearing, you're gonna start accepting compliments—starting with _you look beautiful with your glasses off_."

"Thanks," I say after a moment's pause. I finger my glasses. I think I might be blushing too.

"Good," says Dan, turning as if he doesn't see it. "_Now_ we can go to Journey's End."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks for your support! I'm glad you liked the Buzzing and the Sonnac/Chris conversations in last chapter. I was a bit nervous how they'd turn out.

To start off, I'd like to remind everyone that all of this is strictly "do not try this at home" material. I've never built a bomb, nor have I really done much research on the subject, so most of this is either copied from The Secret World or made up by me. Also, it should be noted that there are very few combinations of "making bombs" and "influencing people" which are not immoral, illegal, or highly dangerous...or all of the above! "Mythbusters" has pretty much patented the best method (make bombs responsibly on TV—FOR SCIENCE!).

I decided since so much of Kaiyo's education and experience has been in magic, she would have been pretty ignorant of mundane weapons. Nevertheless, in this day and age, it is hard to listen to the news for long without being (sadly) impressed with the destructive power of guns and bombs. Deciding to make Dan aware of how to make bombs and giving him a backstory was something of a snap decision for me. I wanted one of the main characters at least to know what they're doing here.

In case I need to say it, this is the first half of the mission "Death and the Instruments Thereof" from TSW. The list is real in the game and fairly detailed, but unfortunately the rationale behind the items is as obscure to me as it is to Chris.

I'm honestly not sure why you'd find propane tanks (which obviously aren't the full-sized ones used on grills) at a gas station.

The decomposition of the Draug is entirely original. I didn't want them to be just endlessly resurrecting like the zombies are mentioned to do (there's no mention of the Draug doing this in game), so I tried to decide what a Draug corpse would look like. This seemed oddly fitting. The bike with the bloodstain, oddly enough, is actually in the game.

So the character development and interaction of Chris and Dan is something subtle I wanted to do. Hopefully I didn't overplay my hand here. Dan certainly would continue hitting on Chris, as he has in the past, but recent events would bias him toward being nicer to her as well in general, which might make Chris a little less defensive. Still, any shippers are likely to have a hard road ahead of them since these two characters have very different personalities and ideals, and work on opposite sides of a secret war... Let me know what you think if you care to review the chapter!


	17. Journey's End

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Journey's End**_

_Friday, November 3, 2:45PM__  
__Corner of Belmont Avenue and Angell Street, Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

Dan and I continue down the road to Journey's End. On our right, the beach stretches down to a gray sea, just beyond a low stone wall. On our right is a trio of two-story Colonial houses. A pair of zombies are on the porch of the last house, chewing on some unlucky corpse. A third is caught in the waist-high hedge. It paws at the air in slow motion and shuffles in place, but is apparently unable to free itself.

None of them see us, but I keep my rifle trained on them nonetheless. One of the zombies on the porch gurgles happily and rears back to a half-standing position, struggling to tear a scrap of flesh off a large bone. On one end of the bone I see the mostly-intact paw of a collie. I grit my teeth against a sudden surge of nausea, but I don't vomit and I don't look away. Honestly, I'd rather face the familiar horror of this cursed little town right now than the storm of strange unknown emotions my conversation with Dan stirred up inside me.

Dan walks opposite me, hammer ready and eyes on the gray sea and the shifting wall of black fog beyond. He seems oblivious to the effect he's had on me...and somehow that thought bothers me more than anything else.

We pass the row of houses on my side, then on Dan's side we pass a two-story wood-plank restaurant whose giant-red-board of a sign declares it to be _The Lobster Trap_. We're about halfway past when something inside the building gives a cackling shriek followed by a crashing noise. Dan and I both turn our attention toward the sounds, weapons ready, but the noises stop as suddenly as they began and do not resume. There are no windows on this side of the restaurant, and nothing emerges from the doors on the other side. At least nothing we can see.

We stand there for a moment of tense, straining silence, but nothing happens. At last Dan says, "I know the Templars are all about smiting evil and such, but just this once I'm voting we leave whatever evil that was alone."

"No argument here," I whisper.

We keep our distance, watching the _Lobster Trap_ until we're past it with a small sandy hill and a bend in the road between us and it. Then there's nothing but grass-grown dunes on our left and a beach on our right—with each of these separated from the two-lane road by a guardrail...which looks atrociously overcautious to me, but I guess I'm biased by growing up in a state with actual mountains and dropoffs to worry about. Just a few yards beyond the right-hand rail, there's the rusty hull of a small ship—a trawler—overturned in the sand. I try not to think about the fate of its crew and instead concentrate on what matters now. "Do you think we could salvage any diesel from that?" I ask.

"Worth a try," he says. "Of course, if we find it, we've got nothing to carry it in."

I knit my brow. I think I remember seeing a gas can inside the mail truck we passed earlier, though I could be wrong. I feign certainty though, leaping at the chance to get away from Dan and clear my head, if only momentarily. "There's one in the mail truck," I say. "I'll go get it while you check the trawler."

I turn and jog back to the mail truck without waiting for his response. The restaurant is silent as I pass and the zombies on the porch don't see me. I stop beside the mail truck and stare at it for a minute without seeing it. Instead, I'm seeing Dan, standing in the middle of the street, smiling that sideways smile of his. I shake my head and remind myself that Dan is Illuminati, the enemy. He's also a selfish jerk who, later apologies beside, shamelessly objectified me when I was vulnerable. _But he was really vulnerable himself, that night that I died..._ I cut off the thought. One unguarded moment does not make up for a whole persona of selfishness, much less make Dan someone I would be remotely interested in, his roguish good looks aside. _Then again, he has been complimenting me, and he did stop swearing when I asked him to..._

I stamp my foot and shake my head again. I know better than this. Dan's Illuminati. He's been with them for years. Even _I_ know that the Illuminati are famous for head-games. He's probably just trying to mess with me, get me off balance—what for, I can't guess. It doesn't matter though. I don't have to know what Dan's game is to know that _something_ is up. Whatever it is, I'm _not_ going to fall for it! Thusly resolved, I step forward and open the driver's side door to the mail truck's small cabin.

Suddenly, something flies out of the cabin at my legs. I leap back, firing a burst from my rifle in panic. The shots go wild, aimed at nothing. It's a wonder I even keep hold of my rifle with my grip as poor as it is when I fire. But the thing that flew out at me simply falls limply to the ground, unmoving. That's when I realize it isn't alive—not even in the zombie sense. It's the half-eaten corpse of a man—quite literally _half_ eaten. On one side its skin is porcelain-pale with tatters of a blue, bloodstained uniform clinging to it. The other side is an almost skeletal mass, with red, gnawed bones held together by bits of torn flesh. The smell of rotten meat assaults me, overpowering. I spin on my heel and stagger away. I barely make it to the edge of the road before vomiting.

I'm drying my mouth on my soiled coatsleeve, and praying I don't begin to dry-heave, when I hear running footsteps on the road behind me. "Chris! You okay? I heard—" Dan's voice cuts off as he sees the body. "Oh, God!" he says, but I understand his need to swear at this.

"I—I'm fine," I assure him, pushing myself to my feet and turning toward him. I try not to let my face show the horror I feel, and I avoid looking at the mail truck, or what lies on the pavement beside it.

"Good!" Dan goes to the back of the truck, pushes aside the spare tire, and produces a five-gallon gas can. "Let's get the... Let's, just get out of here, okay?"

We turn and run past the empty houses and the eerie restaurant till we reach the overturned hulk of the trawler. I rest my hand against the rough, rusty metal hull, catching my breath. I wish I had something to wash the taste of vomit out of my mouth, but I don't. Instead I look at Dan, leaning against the boat beside me, with the gas can in his hand. "Thanks," I say.

"Thanks for what?" he asks, looking past me and the trawler, to the beach.

"For coming after me," I say, not sure why it isn't obvious.

"Oh, that." Dan shrugs. "It'd be pretty stupid of me not to find out what the...what you were shooting at. Besides, I thought I'd better find you anyway once I noticed the trawler was being watched."

"The trawler is—?" I just stop myself from repeating the whole phrase. I straighten and follow his gaze to the beach. Then I freeze.

There, where the course sand meets the pounding gray surf, stand a dozen zombies, staring straight at us. I immediately realize that they're not like other zombies I've seen on the island. They're all men, well muscled, and with blue-tinged skin. Pale barnacles and tangled red seaweed infest their naked bodies. Each of them has his right arm completely encased in coral to form a giant club. Their faces are mostly concealed by matted, sea-soaked hair tangled with red seaweed, but I can still see their eyes. I can feel them on us, watching with malevolent intelligence. A couple of them step forward when they see me appear. One raises its human hand to its face to stifle a wet cough.

"That's not natural," I whisper.

"It's not unnatural either, not in the usual undead-zombie-sense, anyway." He shakes his head. "Reminds me of that Draug mother—...of all monsters."

I almost grin at his verbal rescue, but then I realize he might be on to something. These creatures are acting a lot more like the intelligent Draug warmonger we defeated earlier today than they are like normal zombies. The visual similarity is also undeniable, with their blue skin and sea-ravaged bodies. "At least they're smaller than that thing was," I say, though as I stare across the trawler at twelve of them, that thought isn't as comforting as I'd like it to be.

"We need a diversion," Dan says, then looks at me.

"What, me?"

"You've got a gun, and you can't die."

I glare at him.

He shrugs. "Just sayin'."

I grit my teeth, but I know he's right. "Alright," I say at last. "You get the diesel, I'll draw off the mini-Draug. Once you're done—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll come rescue you," he says with no hesitation. "There's no _way_ I'm leaving you here!"

That makes me feel a little better...very little, considering what I'm facing. I don't have much choice in the end, though. I gather my courage, shoulder my rifle, and dash out from the cover of the beached hull. I scramble over the guardrail, then glance back over my shoulder, breathless, expecting to see the Draug right behind me.

But they're not. Instead, they're still standing exactly where they were, where the shore meets the sea. Some of them are looking at me, others at Dan, but none of them are moving. I roll my eyes. _How hard is it to start a diversion?_ I raise my rifle and take careful aim at the head of one of the Draug. I feel the power gathering in the chamber till my rifle fairly buzzes. I fire.

The Draug's skull cracks and a spray of blue blood erupts from the far side of its head. It collapses without a sound. I'm sure _that_ will get their attention, but a moment later I'm disappointed as one of the other Draug steps right over its companion's body, taking its place and glaring at me.

But when I notice the new Draug taking its place, I realize that the Draug are standing in a specific pattern. There appear to be three distinct groups, gathered around three somethings lying on the beach behind them, shielding them from our view with their bodies. I move a little to the left to get a better view, edging into the gap between two of the Draug guarding the nearest object. I catch sight of it, bobbing and shifting with every wave that passes it on the beach. It looks like the three-lobed claw of a spiny purple lobster (if there was such a thing). It's also huge, nearly as big as me. Whatever it is, it's evidently very important to the Draug—which means I should probably destroy it anyway, and that doing so is guaranteed to cause the diversion I need to get the Draug away from the rear end of the trawler, where the fuel tank is.

I take aim at the spiny pod, letting my power concentrate as before. The Draug shift to block my shot, but there are only three of them and they're torn between blocking my line of sight and blocking Dan's, evidently not realizing that he doesn't have a ranged weapon. I shift right and left for a bit, but it's only a matter of time before I see my opportunity.

I take the shot. The _anima_ bullet splits the armored side of the pod, which shudders like rubber rather than shattering like shell. Black ooze bleeds out, then a hand grasps the edge from the inside, pulling it open. Before I can see any more, the pod is obscured by the shapes of three angry Draug, charging straight up the hill toward me. They shout guttural battlecries and raise their club arms above their heads.

I reach for my grenade launcher and trigger it. A firey blast swallows one Draug's legs, causing it to fall to the sand, screaming in pain. The other two manage to dodge out of the way. I fire a long burst at one. It tumbles and goes down. The third lopes straight for the guardrail. I backpeddal, knowing I can't stop it before it gets there, but also knowing I've already done my part.

Down on the beach, I can see Dan rushing around to the rear of the trawler, accessing the now-unguarded fuel tank. The other eight Draug are too far away and too concerned with their own pods to bother with him as he grabs a fuel line from the wreckage and begins sucking on it, siphoning diesel from the tank. But there is one Draug he doesn't see. I watch it emerge, black and slimy, from the remains of the pod the other Draug were guarding. It leaves the deflated pod to float away on the waves while it raises its club and charges straight at Dan's back.

"Look out! Behind you!" I shout.

Dan turns but it's already to late. The newborn Draug is already nearly on top of him. It swings its clublike arm, hitting him squarely in the torso. He flies backward, only to hit the solid metal hull of the trawler. He lands in a heap beside it. His hammer falls from limp fingers. A rivulet of red runs from his nose.

"Dan!" I scream. He doesn't respond. I spray a burst of fire wildly toward the ooze-covered Draug, which is standing over him. None of the shots hit, but they get it's attention. It roars and charges toward me.

But I have more immediate problems. There's still one of the original Draug up, and it's climbed over the guardrail by now. I scramble backward, but bump into the second guardrail behind me. The Draug crosses the road in two strides and swings its clublike arm down on me. I block with the only thing I have: my rifle. The impact comes with a shock I feel all the way down to my legs and the crack of metal and wood on coral. The wooden stock splinters and breaks off. Several dented pieces of metal casing fall down beside it.

I struggle to hold on to the broken weapon. _I have to kill this Draug before it kills me!_ I manage to keep my grip on the grenade launcher, which has sheered off but is still intact. _I need something powerful, something it can't dodge,_ I think. I pull the trigger. A glowing blue rod of light shoots out and impales the Draug in the chest. The _anima_ grenade gives a rising whine. I jump to the side, rolling across the pavement. Behind me, the grenade explodes. I turn just in time to see the Draug fall, a massive crater in its chest.

There's no time to celebrate the victory, though. The newborn Draug is still striding up the beach toward me. Beyond it I can see Dan slumped against the trawler. He coughs and blood dribbles down his chin. It's the only sign I have that he's still alive. I have to keep him that way, and stop the ooze-covered Draug before it reaches me. The only weapon I have capable of doing both of these things lies in pieces at my feet.

I grab the largest piece. The wood grips have all been splintered by the impact and the exposed metal frame is bent, but the barrel, the trigger, the magazine, and all the pieces between them seem to be intact. With the damage to the frame that holds them in place, I doubt that'll last long, and I certainly wouldn't want to put live ammunition in this gun, but my magic should be more controllable and manageable—at least for a few shots. At least I hope so...

I grip the gun as firmly as I can and point it at the Draug newborn. The rear sight seems to have fallen off, making it difficult to aim. I tell myself the bullet is magic and it will go where I want it to. I pull the trigger.

The recoil nearly throws the ruined weapon out of my hands. Holding onto it drives splinters deep into my palms. I bite down on my tongue to stifle a scream. I taste blood. Nevertheless, I hit my target in the abdomin. The shot explodes. Blue blood surges from the wound. I direct the wash of healing energy away from me, into Dan's broken body.

But one shot won't put down that Draug, nor is it enough to heal Dan. I fire again. The splinters dig deeper. A cover plate falls off the side of the gun. The Draug grunts. I fire again. Blood drips from my palms onto the pavement. More metal plates fall away. I fire again. The grip tears loose. I shift my hand to hold the hot bore. I bite down on the pain. I fire again. The rifle cracks in protest. The back third of the barrel rears up out of the ruined frame as various components spill out. I pull the trigger once more experimentally, but I cannot even imagine this gun ever firing again. My magic won't power another shot from it.

I let it fall. The ooze-covered Draug is limping from its wounds, struggling to get over the first guardrail. Down on the beach, I can see Dan stirring, reaching for his hammer. I allow myself a moment's relief before looking at my hands. They're a mass of angry red wounds. If I don't do something quickly, my rifle may not be the only one never able to fight again.

I force myself to grab my shotgun from my backpack and cock it, despite the pain. I step up to the Draug. It swings at me, but its wounds have slowed it and I dodge. _Hit and run_, I think, then fire. The shotgun bucks in my hands, but instead of raw agony, I feel the tingling of healing magic as the Draug falls dead in front of me. I rub the splinters off my newly healed skin, then run down to meet Dan on the beach.

He's standing by the time I reach him, wiping blood from his chin and beard. He sees me and nods at my approach. "Still hurts to breathe," he says. "I think I've still got a broken rib, maybe two. But it's a sh—a _whole lot_—better than not breathing at all."

"I thought I'd lost you," I say. I feel tears trying to gather in my eyes, but I blink them away quickly. I don't want him to see me affected by this.

"Thought I'd lost me too," he says, managing a smile. He picks up the gas can, stopping the siphoning before it overflows. He grunts at the weight, which apparently strains his ribs, by the look of pain on his face. I reach wordlessly for the gas can and he hands it to me. It's very heavy, but considering the alternative, I can manage it. "Come on, let's get out of here before the rest of 'em get any ideas!"

The other Draug are watching us, but have stood dutifully by their undamaged pods. The only other living Draug on the beach is the one with the charred legs, that got caught in my first grenade explosion. It's still screaming—a deep almost-strangled sound—its human and club arms flailing about in search of something to grasp or attack. As we walk back up to the road, Dan drops his hammer on its head without even breaking stride. The screams cut off immediately.

Once back on the road, we follow it's bend, moving quickly away from the beach where we encountered the Draug. It doesn't take us long till we reach our destination. On the left, the sandy hills level out to reveal a large gray two story house with a wing built on behind it that makes it almost two houses put together in an L shape. Two cars are parked in front of it, though there's no sign of their owners. A large round wooden sign stands by the roadside, painted with a colorful harbor scene. Cursive script engraved into the sign declares, _Journey's End: Jack &amp; Wendy's Bed and Breakfast, built 1796_. "Old house," I remark.

Dan shrugs. "In the Secret World, that's nothin'. The Illuminati have got all kinds of stuff in our Labyrinth that's gotta be ten times as old," he boasts.

I choose not to respond to that. I'm sure the Templars have an equally impressive collection of ancient relics...we're just too busy fighting evil to boast about it.

Unperturbed by my silence, Dan leads the way across the dirt-paved parking lot to the door, which is slightly ajar. He pushes it open cautiously with his hammer. There's a light _thump_ from inside. Peeking over Dan's shoulder, I see an orange tabby prance into the hallway from a side room. It stares at us for a second with wide, green eyes, then Dan moves to enter and it flees, disappearing into some other part of the house.

"Well, we found the cats," Dan says, stepping fully inside.

"If they're still here, it's a fair bet that zombies haven't gotten in here yet," I say. I can't imagine our cat back at home, Snowball, staying in a house with zombies. It's hard enough to get her to stay in a house with humans she didn't know, and even sometimes the ones she's familiar with, too!

I start to step past the door, but then something catches my eye. There's a note tacked to the front door, on stationary that bears a watermark of the same harbor scene from the bed and breakfast sign. I stop to read it.

"Where do you think they keep the litter?" asks Dan, moving deeper into the house and looking around corners.

"Probably the same place as the cats' litter box, I guess," I say, distracted by trying to decipher the note. The writing is cursive, made with a fine-tipped pen, and the ink has run and faded a bit in spots.

"And that is?"

I glance his way. "Probably the laundry room, somewhere on the ground floor," I say, then turn my attention back to the note. I'm beginning to make sense of it, and I don't like what I'm reading. I put a hand on it's corner, to hold it still against the occasional breaths of afternoon air, then read it aloud under my breath. "I lost my husband of only a week to the Fog. He followed the calls and walked into the sea like so many others. Why I was spared, I don't know, but living without him now that I just found him is punishment worse than death. I will go after him to the pier on the seawall, to rescue him...or join him. Signed, Wendy—"

"Found it!" Dan interrupts, coming back around a corner, carrying a large bag of cat litter and his hammer in both hands. He grunts at the burden. "This is...heavier than I thought it'd be. Better see if we can...get one of those cars...working. Drive out of here in style."

"We should look for Wendy first," I say.

"Who?" asks Dan.

I point to the note. "Wendy, the co-owner of the bed and breakfast," I say. "According to this, the Fog took her husband and she went out to the seawall to try and rescue him."

Dan snorted. "Then she's crazy, and probably dead now."

"She had something that protected her from the Fog," I point out. "Whatever that is could prove immensely valuable in countering the Fog. Plus, she could still be alive."

"Or she could not, and whatever protected her could be gone with her. Or it could simply be innate and useless to us, like whatever Deputy Andy's thing is," says Dan. "Come on, help me get this stuff to the car."

I shake my head hard enough to whip my ponytail around. I can't turn my back on this woman, not when there's something I could do, not when helping her could give us a way to combat the Fog and help the other survivors. Dan may be right about the hopelessness, and even Sonnac might disapprove, but I can't just stop caring. I can't just walk away: it's who I am, and I'm not changing that for anybody. "I'm going after her,"I say, setting down the gas can and grabbing my shotgun.

"Wait, what?" Dan drops the bag of cat litter and tries to interpose himself, block my path. But the doorway is too narrow for him to get around me, and I'm a lot lighter on my feet than he is, especially now. I'm already down the porch steps and halfway across the gravel parking lot by the time he catches up with me and puts a hand on my shoulder. He's weaker than usual, so his grip doesn't quite have the force to stop me or spin me around, though he tries.

I stop anyway, spinning around to glare at him. "I _am_ going to find her, I _am_ going to find out how she survived the Fog, and I'm going to bring her back with me, understand?" My shotgun is pointed at his chest, daring him to _try_ and stop me.

He raises his hands. "Alright! You are!...And I'm coming with you." I must have a surprised look on my face, because he smirks and explains, "First rule of horror movies: never split the party, especially when you just broke your ribs!"

I roll my eyes and lower my shotgun. "Let's go, then. She said she was at the end of the seawall."

We turn and resume crossing the parking lot, and from there cross a bare stretch of sand between the place where the pavement of Belmont Avenue ends and the great concrete monolith that is the seawall. Seen from this close, it is massive, easily as tall and wide as a single story house. That seems incredible to me, but then again I have to admit I've never seen a seawall before. They don't have many in landlocked Colorado. I try not to stare and focus instead on our mission.

At the end of the seawall is a double flight of broad concrete stairs, leading up to the top of the wall. A steel catwalk has been built on top of that, held six feet above the top of the wall by slightly rusted metal beams. The catwalk and the metal stairs leading up to it from the top of the wall are both broad enough to accommodate two walking abreast. I deliberately don't. I take the lead, not only because I'm faster than Dan but also because I don't want to face the emotional turmoil that walking beside him might cause—the same turmoil I faced earlier today, when he complimented me, a turmoil I'm forcibly holding at bay by reminding myself that Dan is a selfish and devious man. His current behavior isn't exactly helping my efforts, though.

It's a long walk. The seawall stretches out nearly halfway across the mouth of the harbor. I can just make out some sort of water tank or something on the far end. It's hard to tell exactly what it is, because it's hazy with distance. Just beyond it, though, is the dark haze of the Fog. It stretches all along the far side of the seawall like a blacker, larger copy of the structure. I can see the black tendrils within it clearly now, undulating and whipping about like giant tentacles, only to vanish into the darkness once again. They remind me unpleasantly of the Filth.

I look on the other side. I can see much of the harbor now, though again, it's hazy with distance. One thing I can see from here quite clearly, though: a stretch of beach just opposite Journey's End, hidden from it by a small grass-grown dune. There are two Draug on that beach, the smaller ones with clublike arms, like those we encountered earlier today. Like them, these also are guarding pods, but in this case, the pods outnumber the Draug by more than four to one. "If each of those pods contains a new Draug...," I mutter to myself.

"That can't be good," Dan says. "If they had just a handful of 'em, I'd say they're just replenishing their numbers. But this is something else." He shakes his head and grips his hammer tight enough that his knuckles stand out. "This is an invasion."

"We've got to warn Kaiyo and the others," I say.

"Right," Dan says, and starts turning back the way we came.

I grab his coat. "We've come this far, we should get Wendy first."

Dan shakes his head. "We don't have time to waste!"

I shake my head. "We don't have any idea how long those pods will take to hatch, and even if they do, we won't be overwhelmed by nine Draug immediately," I say. "But we do know that the Draug are connected to the zombies and the Fog somehow. If they _can_ bring the Fog inland and they _do_, then that will overwhelm us immediately—unless we figure out a way to survive it."

Dan sighs, then throws up his hands. "Fine! Let's go find fuc—go find Wendy!" he says.

We continue on. I can make out trawlers in the harbor now. They sit abandoned, smashed and nestled together on the gray water like the forgotten bones of some giant sea creature. One has run aground near the end of the seawall. I try to ignore them, focusing on our mission. Wendy said she'd be at the end of this pier, at the end of the seawall. I can see the structure on the end clearly now. It is a storage tank of some sort, built up onto a platform held above the catwalk by four steel I-beams. The tank has a conical roof and is painted red, with a narrow catwalk and railing of its own surrounding its base. I see something swinging beneath it. I gasp, then run forward, already knowing I'm far, far too late. Beneath the tank, hangs the body of a woman who can only be the Wendy who wrote the note at Journey's End.

"Well, fuck, this isn't what I was expecting," says Dan.

For once I'm too distracted to even notice his profanity. "She survived so much, but she couldn't live without him!" I shake my head and try to blink back tears.

Dan does not seem so affected. He walks up to the corpse, holding the lapel of his trenchcoat in front of his nose. "Well, she's definitely been dead a couple days, I'd say. Definitely suicide. Zombies haven't found her yet. That's the good news." He reaches over and touches the body, running his hands over its thighs, then into the pockets.

"What are you doing?!" I demand.

"Searching her for magical items," Dan explains calmly. "She might have had one in her possession without realizing it. Could be why she survived the Fog."

I clench my shotgun tightly in my hands. I'm about to give him a tirade about respecting the dead, but then I realize that with the stakes this high and the dead of Solomon Island so numerous, the request really doesn't make any sense. Instead I shut my mouth again and turn away, letting him continue his search.

"Pockets are clean," he reports. "Nothing but a cell phone, and it's dead." He tosses it carelessly aside. I hear it skip off the catwalk and see it hit the concrete below, where it's white backing breaks off, allowing the battery and a few other delicate components to scatter.

I wince, but I say nothing. I know that what he's doing is necessary, but I can't help but wish I had found Wendy a couple days sooner. I know that's impossible...but if it wasnt, could I have prevented her death? The question gnaws at me as, behind me, Dan concludes his search.

"Yeah, I'm not finding any—wait! Hello, what's this?" he says. I turn warily to find him grinning up at the corpse. "Now _that_'s an interesting pendant..." he says, reaching for the dead woman's chest.

Suddenly there's a screech, too loud and too high to come from anything human. I drop my shotgun to cover my ears. I look to Dan, trying to figure out what sort of alarm he set off, but it's far, far worse than an alarm. The air around the hanging woman wavers and another woman, half transparent, seems to melt out of the body. Her skin is gray and her features are impossibly distorted, limbs and clawlike fingers elongated beyond human proportions. Her hair and her body itself seem to float, suspended in the air, clothed only in a long, bloody rope that winds around her body, legs, arms, and her impossibly thin neck. I remember the words of the Buzzing from last night, while I was dead, _Many have walked this plane before you. Most of them do not leave. They linger on as pure anima, forgetting who they were and where they came from...You have names for them: spirits, specters, shades..._

"Ghosts," I whisper, realizing what it is we've awakened, an _anima_ echo of what once was Wendy. By the looks of her, she's no longer sane.

The specter chatters, a sound like rusty chains grinding together. Dan takes a step back from her, raising his hammer. That draws her attention. Her head whips around and she lashes out with elongated arms. Blue fire appears from the hammer, spreading instantly to cover Dan's body, but it does not harm him. The specter counters this with a green glow surrounding her hands, pushing against the flames. She shoves forcefully, shrieking, and Dan is pushed back against the railing. Another push like that, and he'll go over it—and straight to the bottom of the seawall below!

I can't let that happen. I leave my shotgun where it lies, unwilling to risk hitting Dan with stray pellets, and draw my pistols from under my coat instead. I take aim at the specter's head and fire both guns, one after another. Green sparks fly from the ghost's form where my shots hit home. But the deranged shade does not vanish. Instead her head twists around 180 degrees to glare at me. Her eyes are pure black, terrifying, with nothing behind them but hatred and malice.

I swallow and prepare to fire again, but the ghost is already in motion. She flies straight at me, then swipes a green-glowing hand at me. I instinctively block with my left, but the blow passes right through my arm. I cry out at the sudden pain. My coat is undamaged, but I feel like my arm's just been burned. Thankfully there's no smoke rising from my sleeve, so whatever the specter is using to hurt me must be less powerful than the Revenant's blades, but still it's something I want to avoid if possible. I manage to hold onto both guns and retreat, firing.

The specter shrieks, sparks flying away with every hit, making her seem that much less substantial. But she's still a threat. She rushes at me again. I try to dodge, but this time the specter closes a hand around my neck, quickly followed by the other. The bloody red rope winds down her arms to join them in strangling me. Her whole body glows green as she lifts me off the ground. The buzzing of an overturned hive assaults my brain.

"Chris!" I hear Dan cry out, but it's distant.

I try to raise my arms, to break the phantom's grip, but my arms don't respond. I look down, and in terror I see myself standing on the catwalk, eyes rolled back in my head, a ghostly copy of my body already halfway out of my actual one, and being dragged further with each second the specter retains her grip. Already the world is going monochromatic. _She's dragging me back to the in-between place, in anima form!_ I have no idea what will happen to my body once I'm gone, probably it will die again, but what I'm more concerned with his my soul. Trapped in an unfamiliar realm, fighting for my very existence against this mad thing that's been there for days already...I don't relish my odds!

Just then, blue and green fire merge. Dan's hammer slices through the specter's body to hit something in its chest, causing it to waver and she loses her grip on me. My _anima_ form snaps back to my body. I shake myself and gasp for breath, but I know I don't have much time. The ghost is still out there. I see her dive on Dan. He holds up his hammer, blocking her advance with its blue fire. At the same time, he uses his free hand, surrounded by the same fire, to punch the unnatural thing in the face. It's head just whips around through a complete circle and she shrieks at him.

I raise my pistols again. I have to help him. _There's something in its chest, a weak point._ I stare through the translucent skin. Then I see it: a golden pendant wreathed in green flame. Already some of the links of the chain are severed, but I know that's not going to be enough to put this specter down. I take aim at the center of the pendant and fire both guns as quickly as I can work the trigger. At first, only sparks fly, but then my _anima_ bullets begin to penetrate the ghost's body. One breaks another link in the chain. The ghost shrieks and recoils. I keep firing, even as she turns and dives at me, arms outstretched.

Those arms never reach me. A moment before they do, one of my bullets strikes the center of the pendant, followed by another, and a third. The distorted body of the specter is enveloped by green flame for a moment, and when it fades, only the pendant remains. It falls to the catwalk, getting caught in the grate that makes up its floor while about half of its links continue to fall through and hit the seawall. The pendant itself looks like an ordinary golden ankh, plus three bullet holes. It no longer glows with green flame or any unnatural light. The specter, it seems, is banished.

I just stand there for a moment, shocked. I try to get my breathing back under control. I holster one pistol and put my free hand on the railing for support, trembling.

"You alright?" Dan asks, approaching me.

I nod weakly. "Just...just a little shaken, that's all."

"I thought I was about to lose you, again!"

"I thought the same," I admit. I bite my lip, thinking of just how close I came. Another second, just the slightest hesitation from Dan, and the specter would have separated me entirely from my body. I don't think I'd ever have gotten back if that happened. _And what would have become of me_, I wonder, _separated from my body in a place like that: not alive, not dead...?_ I have no idea, and that uncertainty terrifies me.

"It must've been the necklace," Dan says, reaching for it. "Must've been enchanted. This hammer of mine gets jealous sometimes, won't let other enchantments effect me. The thing started throwing chaos magic everywhere the moment I touched it." He touches the pendant now, then picks it up. Nothing happens.

"I think I broke it," I say.

Dan shrugs. "Beats the alternative. We'll have Kaiyo take a look at it." He looks back at me. "You sure you're alright?"

I nod, steadier this time. I holster my other pistol and pick up my shotgun. "Let's just get out of here."

He takes the lead and we walk silently back down the seawall to Journey's End. The journey is quiet and uneventful, but I can't say the same for my thoughts. I wonder about the woman's fate, trapped in _anima_ form until I destroyed the pendant and banished her...but to where? Did I just send her from a hell of her own making to one of a more literal sort? Was it really a rescue after all, or just a mishap ending in some soul's eternal condemnation? I shudder. I nearly died—or worse—on this mission, and the worst part of it is that I don't think the death would have been worth it, would have meant anything in the long run. _Will anything I do here mean anything in the long run? Or am I just saving Wendys from supernatural deaths, only to have them die some other way the very next day?_ The ghost may be gone, but the thought haunts me all the way back to the dirt parking lot.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the feedback! I'm glad you liked the interactions between Chris and Dan. I feel like I haven't gotten to play these characters off each other in a while, and they've still got a fair bit to do on this outing, so here is one chapter more! There will of course be some fallout to these character developments, as one of you suggested, though perhaps everything is not as simple as it seems...

I have been planning to add some content from the Issues of the game. "Carter Unleashed" and "The Vanishing of Tyler Freeborn" have been on my radar for a while. "The Uncertainty Principle," honestly hasn't for a purely shortsighted reason: in the game it's flagged as endgame content, rated "Devastating" even to my most advanced PCs (which, admittedly, are not very advanced at all, not even fully at QL 5). However, videos and walkthroughs are readily available, so I'll see about working it in. Perhaps Kaiyo will put a bug in Moose's ear about getting some "real" (AKA: magic) weapons. He may even be able to teach the others some weapon modification, but for now putting together some area-denial weapons to make sure that the next hoard of zombies doesn't overrun their defenses takes priority for the survivors...at least the survivors in the Sheriff's Office!

On that note, I am excited to see the introduction of vehicles to the game, including a newly available mission from Moose. I'll definitely be buying that, and it's a fair bet it'll show up in the story if I can find someplace to work it in.

Speaking of the connection between the game and the story, it's become apparent to me that the Fog is supposed to have arrived on Solomon Island on Halloween or very, very near to it, not a month early, as in my original timeline (which would have placed this chapter in late September). So I went back through _Lit Major Shoots Zombies_ as well as the prequel, _Lit Major Shoots Lightning_, and changed the dates. Days of the week did not change, nor did any other elements of the story, just the dates in order to be more consistent with what the game itself portrays.

I should confess that there's been a fair bit of embellishment on the zombies of late. In chapter 14 child zombies showed up, and in 15 there was the zombie in the pink dress wearing only one heel. Now I present zombies eating dogs, getting stuck in bushes, and creeping out main characters from the shelter of _The Lobster Trap_ restaurant. None of these things are in the game. In the game there are maybe half a dozen different models for the "Returned Townie" zombies that make up the majority of Kingsmouth's MOB population, and all of them are adults. These same models are recycled throughout most of Solomon Island to represent most zombies. The only dogs are player character pets (which, to my knowledge, cannot die) and zombies...well, they _can_ get stuck on terrain but to the designers' credit it doesn't happen very often. The _Lobster Trap_, also, while a real feature of Kingsmouth does not make noises as players approach it. It is completely non-intractable, with zero plot significance, and only serves as a platforming puzzle for collecting Lore. Seemed like a shame to waste a perfectly good prop like that, though, so I decided to make it do something in this story, even if all it could do was be creepy for a few seconds.

The half-eaten postman is also not in the game, and in the game it's not clear _what_ you put the diesel in, because you never have to get a gas can. Also changed from the game is the Draug types and behaviors in the area of the trawler. In the game, the trawler is located in the middle of a Draug Impaler spawn zone (what I described was Maulers, because I found it easier to imagine their fighting style), and the Draug will aggro individually if you get too close to them (which is nearly impossible to avoid) rather than waiting until you damage one of their pods (also on this beach) and charging in mass.

You can "break" a weapon in TSW, though it's not easily done. It basically involves dying a whole lot while being too lazy to repair your equipment at the Anima Well or a vendor. Even "broken," I believe the equipment is still usable, and only offers slightly reduced stats. Real life is not so generous (real life may also not allow an AK-47 to be spectacularly destroyed by a single heavy blow, but I took some artistic licenses!). Before the weapon breaks down completely, of course, it shows off the skill "Fire in the Hole" which launches a spike grenade at the enemy, as described here.

In the game, it appears that Journey's End is the name of the location where Belmont Avenue ends, not the name of the bed and breakfast located nearby (which is called Jack &amp; Wendy's), but I chose to combine them. I think Journey's End would make for a nice hotel name. Anyway, the bed and breakfast itself is a non-intractable object that players cannot enter, so cat litter is found unceremoniously dumped out front, which is probably a bad plan in real life, since it could get wet and be rendered useless if exposed to the elements. The orange tabby is based on Andy's cat "Ponch" as seen in the photo at the beginning of "The Meowling." But since Andy establishes several times that the kittens were drowned by his dad when he was young, it obviously isn't the same cat...or is it?

The Journey's End quest follows the sidequest pretty faithfully, with only a few changes. First, the note does not mention the seawall, just a pier. The only way players know that it means the seawall instead of one of the numerous other piers in the harbor is because of the quest waypoints. The note also doesn't specify the identity of the newlywed bride. It may not make much sense for it to be Wendy of the Jack &amp; Wendy's pair...but maybe they started the business while engaged? I don't know, but it felt a lot better to give the woman an identity. From there the big difference is that the "Deranged Spectre" _cannot_ drag you out of your body, and in fact does not do melee attacks at all. I decided to allow her to do this here mostly because it seemed to fit with the origin of the ghost. Why she was able to do it so easily to Chris but not Dan may have to do with the combination of Dan being protected by the Hammer of Eris and Chris having recently been separated from her body for the first time.

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the chapter! Next up, the end of "Death, and the Instruments Thereof" mission, plus a new sidequest and location! Thanks for reading!


	18. Firehouse

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

**_Firehouse_**

_Friday, November 3, 4:25pm__  
__Journey's End Bed and Breakfast, Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

We return to the parking lot, where Dan uses his hammer to break the glass of an abandoned red sedan. Blue fire spreads along the cracks and the whole driver's side window dissolves into sand. After that, he gets the car opened and hotwired with disconcerting ease. I gather up the gas can and the bag of cat litter, throwing them in the back seat, along with my backpack. The trunk is still full of the previous owner's luggage, and it feels somehow wrong to throw it out.

I climb in beside Dan. Even with one window gone, the sedan retains a lot of heat from the day. I strip out of my padded army coat, leaving me in the white, sleeveless exercise top. The butts of my pistols stand out against the fabric, unconcealed beside my breasts. Dan stares at me for a moment after I take off my coat, then shakes himself. I pretend not to notice. I can't help but wonder, though, if he really thinks I look that good, or if he's just pretending.

We drive slowly up Belmont Avenue, back the way we came. I keep my shotgun on my lap, my finger against the frame just above the trigger. I'm especially tense was we pass the beached trawler, but the Draug do not appear, and none of the zombies seem keen on chasing cars just now. Dan gives them all a wide berth just in case they change their mind.

I start to relax. I look over at Dan, who is concentrating on the road. He's got stubble from a couple days without shaving. It casts a shadow across his cheeks, and I can't help thinking how well it compliments the thin beard that frames his strong jaw. I look away quickly, before he catches me staring. I try to chide myself for this moment of weakness, remind myself that Dan can't be trusted because he's with the Illuminati. The attempt seems halfhearted even to me. _He saved my life, and I saved his. We've worked together as a team, and he says I'm...beautiful. _I shift in my seat and glance back at him. _Surely all Illuminati aren't bad people_, I think. _Surely some are just good people caught up in a bad organization. People with rough lives and no where else to turn..._ The thought comforts me and I really hope it's true...especially for Dan.

I'm about to ask a question to test my theory, but Dan breaks the silence first. "There should be just a couple more things on the list," he says, and hands it to me. "Check your map, and let's see if we can figure out where they are."

I take the note from him. Moose's handwriting is surprisingly neat and legible, certainly neater than mine. But even more surprising are the things he's written—only two of which have not yet been crossed off the list. "We need cold packs and...orange juice," I say, a little hesitant.

"We probably could have gotten the orange juice down at Journey's End," he says.

"Sorry, but I was a little too distracted by me almost dying to think about checking the fridge," I say, a little more sharply than I mean.

"So was I," Dan says. He glances at me, then looks back at the road to weave between abandoned cars on Angell Street. "Fucking ghost," he mutters, his face turned away, but I still hear him.

I'm not sure how to respond to his concern. We fall silent. I let my shotgun rest on my lap, but my hands clench together in a tension that has nothing to do with zombies.

"Look at that," Dan says suddenly, pointing forward. There's a large, gray two-story building on the street corner head. It bears red trim, and a red-lettered sign on the front of the building declares, _Kingsmouth Volunteer Fire Dept._ Beneath the sign stand two huge garage doors, one of which has been left open, revealing the large empty space beyond. "They ought to have some heavy-duty first aid kits in there. Should be easy to find the cold packs we need. Who knows, we might even find orange juice in their fridge. I mean, they've gotta have a fridge if the firefighters live here, right?"

I nod. "Definitely worth checking," I say.

Dan pulls up in front of the empty garage. I unbuckle and look around cautiously before getting out. The building appears to be deserted, except for a solitary zombie woman shuffling around with her head down beside the corner of the building. The zombie wears a blue t-shirt with a white cross on the front, marred by dried blood from an old gunshot wound to the neck. I wonder for a moment if I gave it that shot, but I decide it doesn't matter. It's not too alert and it's the only zombie in sight, which is a big improvement on other buildings in town.

I go ahead and climb out, leaving my army coat in the car. I rub my shoulder against the slight chill of the breeze, but decide it isn't worth putting the bulky coat on just yet. Dan stares at me for a second, and I give him a small smile. I think I like it when he looks at me that way, just a little. Then I lift my shotgun. I still have a read mark on my forearm from where the ghost attacked me, and he's still moving slowly from the broken ribs earlier in the day, but I think I can use the zombie in the parking lot to solve that. "Come on, stay close," I say, pointing my shotgun toward my target. He lifts hammer, but I motion for him to stay behind me.

We cross the parking lot to the corner of the building. The zombie stops shuffling as we approach, then slowly turns our way. The neck injury prevents it from raising its head. I focus my _anima_ into small, bomb-like pellets in the shotgun's chamber. Then I check to make sure Dan is right behind me, and kill the zombie with a single headshot.

A tingle runs over my arm, and the red mark is gone. Behind me, Dan takes a deep breath and sighs. "Much better!" he says. "Gotta say, I dig your approach to healing over Kaiyo's. You take care of two problems at once, and you don't threaten to suck my blood."

I smirk. "She can certainly be creepy when she wants to."

Dan nods. "There's no way she ever had a normal social life...and I don't think she misses it either." He turns his back to the fire department and leads the way toward the open garage door. "First aid kits are probably in there, by where they keep the trucks. If not there, we should look in storage some place, maybe upstairs." I nod and follow him to the threshold of the garage.

The moment he steps through, there's a growl like a mad dog. He barely has time to turn before a well-muscled zombie wielding a fireax rushes at him from the side. He uses his sledgehammer's shaft to block the blow just in time. The zombie growls again, foaming at the mouth. It's unnatural strength slowly forces the ax down toward Dan's face.

But I won't let it complete that journey. By the time it utters that second growl, I already have my shotgun pointed at it's chest. I fire once, then twice. The zombie screams and falls.

As it topples sideways, its final scream is echoed by an inhuman voice upstairs, then another, and another. Screams echo through the building like fire alarms. Dan's eyes dart back and forth, trying to follow the noises. I unconsciously do the same. Then my eyes land on a set of large red carrying cases on a shelf against the cement wall of the garage. "First aid kits!" I shout.

Grab 'em and go!" Dan shouts, half shoving me toward them. He follows a stride behind, his hammer raised and his eyes half on where he's going and half on the ceiling.

I rush to the shelf and tuck my shotgun under one arm. Speed, not firepower, is what we need here. I grab two of the kits, one in each hand—which is all my grip can accommodate. I sprint back to the car, around to the driver's side, and throw them through the open window, not caring where or how they land, so long as it's inside. I run back to the garage for more, but as soon as I reach the garage, I freeze.

A zombie in a dark blue firecoat is standing in the center of the garage, beside a polished metal fireman's pole that leads up to the second floor. It holds a fireax with both hands as it begins to stalk toward Dan. As I watch, as second zombie slides down the pole—one hand guiding its decent and the other gripping an ax. It lands awkwardly, twisting an ankle beneath it, but it doesn't even seem to be aware of the injury. It turns to face me, raising its ax and growling like a ferocious dog.

Dan sees me. "Get the hell out of here, Chris!" he shouts. He rushes to meet the first zombie, swinging his hammer into its gut. The sledgehammer blow leaves a streak of fire in the air and a scorch mark on the zombie's coat, but it only knocks the zombie aside briefly. A moment later, it takes a swing of its own at Dan's side, and he's forced to dodge the red ax. "Fuck!" he swears, completely forgetting our agreement. "Just get in the car and _go_, before they swarm us!"

I can still hear roaring and screaming from upstairs. More zombies are coming, and there's nowhere in the building where Dan will be safe from them. Nowhere where _I_ will be safe from them either...but I'm _not_ leaving him! I shake my head, grab my shotgun, and prepare to meet the second zombie's charge head on.

As it rushes toward me, I fire a blast of flame at its feet. It doesn't even slow down. _Of course, fireman zombie is wearing fireproof boots, right!_ I fall to the side and roll to get out of the way. _I need a new strategy_. My mind works frantically. _I have to either attack exposed skin on the face or hands, or else go for penetration._ I come up in a crouch, my shotgun ready, but I don't see the zombie.

"Behind you!" Dan shouts, followed closely by "_Shit!_" as he ducks under a close swing from his own attacker.

I look over my shoulder just in time to see the zombie standing behind me, ax raised for a killing blow. I have no time to aim, but turning has already pointed my shotgun in its direction. I pump off three shots as fast as I can. I get lucky. The zombie stumbles backward, one leg a pulped mass of red wounds. But its retreat is momentary. _These things are **tough**, and fast!_

The zombie staggers toward me again, ax swinging downward. I roll to the right, going prone. The ax hits the cement floor, striking sparks. I raise my shotgun with one hand, take aim, and pull the trigger. A fireball hits the zombie in the face from below with enough force to snap its head back. It drops the ax. Its hands claw at its flaming features until they too catch fire. The zombie shrieks in pain. I leave it to this and scramble to my feet. I've got to help Dan!

The zombie Dan is fighting is still up, but is now battered, and slow. Both of its legs and one arm bend at unnatural angles in places where there aren't joints, obviously broken. Still it clings to its ax with its one good arm and shuffles after Dan, growling. I rush toward them, but Dan motions for me to stay back. He dances away from the zombie, going for one of the other first aid kits on the shelf. But he has to pay too much attention to the zombie and he misses, snagging his left hand in the strap of a small blue duffle bag from the shelf above instead. "Shit!" he says, then ducks under a swing. The ax lodges in the metal shelf. Dan spins around and slams his sledgehammer one-handed into the zombie's unprotected head. It drops like a stone.

But before Dan or I can even sigh in relief, another zombie firefighter slides down the pole behind us. It looks at the burning zombie in the open doorway of the garage—which has fallen to its knees, its head and forearms ablaze. The new zombie ignores it and turns back to us, growling low and hefting its ax.

I back away. There's a crash on the stairs behind us. I glance back to see that a zombie firefighter has fallen on the stairs and now lies prone, unmoving. Apparently the shambling gait of the undead does not handle steps well. That gives me an idea—and just in time, as a second zombie slides down the pole to join the attack, followed by a third.

"The stairs!" I shout. "Quick! They won't be able to follow!"

We rush to the stairs. One zombie tries to take a swipe at us with its ax, but it's too far away. Soon we're ascending the steps, passing the zombie on the landing. It hisses, stirring weakly. I launch a fireball into its face in passing. Then we're at the top of the stairs, in a break room with a messy kitchenette and several overturned tables and chairs. I can still hear the zombies screaming and growling, but all of the noises are coming from downstairs, and they don't seem to be getting any closer. I give myself a moment to breathe.

"Well, I guess we know who _not_ to call in case of an emergency," Dan says, breathing hard.

I nod and manage a slight smile in spite of the situation. The sound of a zombie stumbling on the stairs kills the smile though.

Dan freezes for a moment too, but when the sounds don't continue, he relaxes. "Sounds like they're giving up," he says. "Let's check the fridge, see if there's anything we can bring back. I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

I can't honestly say that food's been much on my mind, but at the mention of it my stomach gurgles, reminding me that all I've eaten all day is a can of lima beans, which I threw up about an hour ago. So while Dan opens the duffle and carelessly dumps a portable defibrillator from the bag into the sink, I open the fridge. The light inside comes on and the air feels cool. I smile. I don't know where the power's coming from, but I'm grateful. It means the food inside should still be good—including the very first item my eyes land on: a carton full of liquid with a cartoon drawing of a vibrant sunrise on the front. "Orange juice!"

Dan grins and takes it. "Great find, babe!" he says, packing it away inside the duffle bag. "This should be plenty for makin' bombs, even a little extra. Now all we've got to do is get it back to Moose's lab." He holds out a hand toward the fridge. "Hand me the rest of the stuff in there. I'll see what I can fit."

We start emptying the fridge, taking essentials first, like bread, fruit, and milk. Then we fill the rest of our duffle with random items and condiments. As Dan tries to squeeze a jar of mayonnaise inside, an apple falls out. I pick it up off the floor, dusting it off on my top. I'm about to take a bite when I realize I'm hearing a growling sound that isn't coming from my stomach...or from downstairs. My eyes dart to one of the doorways leading off the break room. I drop the apple and take a step back. "Dan...," I say, reaching back, searching for him. When I find his arm, it feels solid and tense. He's already seen it. How could he not?

There in the doorway stands a fireman in full bright yellow gear, complete with a helmet and a mask. The badge on the heavy, thick suit reads, _Fire Chief Soule_. Through the mask I can see that its features are the flaky death-gray of a zombie. It growls at us again, raising its fireax and stalking forward.

"We need to leave, now!" Dan says. He grabs the duffle bag and my shotgun from the counter. He holds the latter out to me.

I shake my head and let him keep it for now. I can't imagine a spray of shot or a fireball penetrating that protective suit, but my .45's might. I draw the pistols and take another step back, till my shoulder bumps against Dan's chest.

"Doorway on your left," he whispers, making a slight gesture with his hammer. "Think it's a fire escape. We should be able to get down to the car from there, and the stairs should slow 'em at least."

I nod, taking aim at the zombie. "I'll cover for you."

He shakes his head and lays a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me toward the exit. "Ladies first."

I'm normally not huge on chivalry, and I'm guessing neither is Dan, but I decide now isn't the time to argue. Instead I rush toward the exit, firing as I go. The zombie staggers under the hail of bullets, but it does not go down. The moment I turn to push through the door, it swings its ax at me. My shots have weakened it and put it off balance though. Its swing is slow and poorly aimed. I'm able to dodge by throwing myself out onto the wooden landing of the fire escape. The zombie's ax lodges in the wall.

Before it can pull the ax loose, Dan charges at it, sledgehammer swinging and trailing blue flame. He slams the zombie in the side of the head, knocking it into the doorframe so hard it rebounds. I hear the helmet crack, maybe the skull beneath too. The zombie simply grunts and pulls out its ax, though.

"Dan, get out of there!" I shout. I cross my arms, firing my pistols as quickly as I can into the zombie's chest. The shots keep it off balance, but little else.

Fortunately, that's all Dan needs. He rushes through the door and slams it behind us. Blue fire envelopes his hand and he crushes the doorknob as if it were made of tinfoil. Tendrils of smoke rise from the latch. "That should stall them for a while," he says. Then an ax head slams into the door, its corner cutting through from the inside. He grabs my arm. "Let's go!"

We run down the exterior stair and dash to the car, which is still idling in the parking lot. I tuck my pistols back into their holsters and grab my shotgun from Dan. We jump into the car. I shove a first aid kit out of my seat and into the floorboard. As I close the door behind me, I look back at the garage.

The zombie I lit on fire is now writhing on the ground just inside the garage, flames and smoke pouring from every opening in its clothing. The other zombies stare at us over the flames, but show no sign of pursuing us. Dan doesn't give them a chance to. He stands on the gas pedal and the tires send up twin columns of blue smoke as the sedan nearly flies out of the parking lot.

We're silent for a minute as our car speeds away from the infested firehouse. I pull on my coat, feeling a need for the protection, and then buckle my seatbelt automatically. Dan glances over at me when he hears the noise. "That was close," he murmurs.

I nod. "Those zombies were a lot tougher than the others around here, even accounting for all their protective gear and those axes!"

"Yeah," Dan acknowledges. After a moment's silence, he adds, "This one is…probably our fault. The Illuminati's."

"Huh?" I'm surprised Dan would even admit such a thing, let alone that it would be true.

"Well, you know we used to be all over this island, a couple hundred years ago. Some of the old buildings show it. I'm not talking blue pyramids or anything overt, but more subtle, powerful shi—uh, stuff: like arcane geometry, wards, spells weaved into the foundations, and…other things," Dan explains. "Point is, I'm betting the firehouse is one of these old buildings that got renovated, and that back in the day some Illuminati Grand Master or whatever put something in it to protect the firefighters—without thinkin' that someday we might need protection _from_ the firefighters."

I think about it for a minute. It sounds like a likely explanation for their strength and toughness, and for why they waited till we were inside to attack and didn't pursue us when we got to the parking lot. It also sounds innocent and well-intentioned, which are two words I didn't think could apply to the Illuminati before. Maybe I was wrong. "I don't think it's your fault, or theirs," I say at last. "No one could have anticipated this. Nobody plans for the zombie apocalypse," I say. Then I smile. "Well, maybe Micah does."

"Micah?" Dan repeats.

I look up. "Yeah, my little brother, he—" My voice cuts off as I see something. A white car comes barreling around a corner in front of us. _Someone else is driving in Kingsmouth! Another survivor!_ I think. Suddenly, I realize the car is coming straight at us. "Look out!"

* * *

**Author's Note**: This chapter and the next one were originally one very long chapter when I wrote them out, but when I went back to type them, I realized they represented separate scenes and each told a different story, which really deserved its own chapter, so I broke them up. Unfortunately, this does mean that some of the moments you were looking forward to are in the second half, namely, a new survivor location, and Kirsten Geary reacting to the goings on of the past three chapters. I apologize, but that chapter will be coming soon…as in I probably won't post this one till I have the next one typed and ready to go!

I'm glad you all are liking the variety of zombies! Here you have some varieties of zombie firefighters. The paramedic in the parking lot stands in for one of two or three zombie firemen players may find milling about in front of the building in that same head-down pose. Unlike the paramedic, however, these are armed and just as dangerous as the zombies inside. These zombies, while tough, are by no means fireproof, and any flame-based attacks will work on them just fine (the game really only recognizes physical vs magical damage anyway). They also have no fireman pole to slide down, nor do they fall down the stairs (or struggle with them—do not attempt to lose zombies on the stairs! This will only delay them momentarily if at all!). There is, however, one zombie who spawns on the landing. In a stroke of dark genius, the folks at Funcom programmed this zombie to spawn in an untargetable state, inactive and lying prone, looking exactly like every corpse of the other half dozen fireman zombies you've killed downstairs by the time you reach him. If you're new to the area you'll probably think he's a zombie that got killed by some other passing player, or maybe by you yourself if you weren't paying attention. He will remain in this "fake corpse" state until the player practically walks right over him to reach the breakroom—then he will _stand up behind you_ and attack from the rear, scaring you half to death and then killing you the rest of the way with his ax! Unlike Chris, you cannot just double tap him as you walk by, so the best strategy is to walk over him, and then turn around so you're ready to face him rather than having him sneak up on your flank.

Fire Chief Soule is the boss spawn of the firehouse and he/she (either gender can spawn with the name) is always dressed differently, usually in orange, but I decided to go with full protective gear in order to make Soule more of a threat. Soule is one of the objectives on the "Missing Persons List" sidequest. He/she didn't make it!

In game, there is no explanation given for why the fireman zombies are so much tougher than their neighbors. Dan's explanation was the only thing I could come up with that seemed to fit with me.


	19. Revelations

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Revelations**_

_Friday, November 3, 5:13pm__  
__Near the corner of King's Court and Angell Street, Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

I shout, and the other car honks its horn at the same moment. Dan swears and swerves, throwing me against my seatbelt. The other driver tries to swerve as well. The cars pass within a finger's length of each other. There's a _thump_ as our driver's side mirror is knocked off. Dan brakes hard and we skid to a halt in a patch of dirt on the side of the road. I gasp as the seatbelt once more cuts into my chest.

Then suddenly, there's silence, stillness. I look over my shoulder to where the other car was. At first I don't see it, but then I notice a section of fence missing from the perimeter of the park on Angell Street. There's a cloud of dust behind it, and in the center of that cloud I can make out one corner of the white coupe, with its wheel pointing skyward.

I scramble to unbuckle myself. "They've rolled over! We've got to help!"

To my surprise, Dan is already halfway out of the car. I shoot him a questioning look over the roof of our car. "What?" he says. "You don't even expect me to try to save the only other person able and willing to drive a car that we've found here? There's a good chance whoever it is knows something!"

"That sounds like something I would say," I remark. It wouldn't be my personal motivation _per se_, but it would be the sort of reason I gave Dan or even Sonnac.

He shoots me a quick smile. "Sometimes you have good ideas." He makes his way around the car and touches my shoulder lightly to guide me across the street. "You know, I don't usually care for Templars, but you're alright. Better than alright, really. You sure you wouldn't consider switching sides? Joining up with us?"

I chuckle. "I'm pretty sure."

My smile dies when I see the wreck. Dan's hand leaves my shoulder as well. The other car lies on its back, smoking, in the middle of the park. Dirty gouges in the earth mark the spots where the car went off the road and flipped. Now it's pointed away from the road, its passenger compartment crushed. I wonder if anyone could still be alive in there. I think of my mother's accident and wonder if it looked like this. My dad never took us to see that car afterward…

"I see movement!" Dan says. He rushes to the passenger's side door.

I follow. Thin, bloody fingers grasp what was once the top of the window frame—which is now the threshold of the only opening in the wreck large enough to crawl in or out of. There's a moan from inside and the fingers close on jagged pieces of glass in the window frame, pulling them away one by one. I tense. The first thing that goes through my mind when I hear that moan and see those fingers is _zombie_, not _car crash victim_. I suppose I can be forgiven for the mistake under the circumstances.

"Help me get this door open," Dan says, smashing on the hinges with his hammer.

I hold the barrel of my shotgun close to them and fire as well, further weakening them. In the space of half a minute, we've broken off enough twisted metal to pull the door away. It's then that I catch my first glimpse of the driver. She's a short woman, about my age. Shoulder length hair, which is probably brown, is plastered to her head by blood. New rivulets of red drip onto the grass beneath her even as she crawls from the wreck. Her skin is almost paper white and her breath comes in shallow, slurping gasps. She is wearing an old white dress with an apron, of all things, but like the rest of her it's stained with her own blood, especially in the front and on the shoulders.

"Jesus Christ," Dan whispers.

The driver looks up at the sound of his voice, as if just realizing we're here. She pushes a pair of black-rimmed glasses up her nose, though they're so broken and smeared that I doubt it makes much difference. She ignores me and looks straight at Dan.

His eyes go wide. "What the fuck are you—?" he starts, but then glances at me and cuts off abruptly.

The woman gasps out a reply, but her voice is so faint that the only word I make out is _church_.

"Hold on, stay here!" Dan says. He turns to me. "She's lost a lot of blood. This goes beyond first aid kits, and you haven't got your rifle. We need Kaiyo!"

"Go!" I say. "I'll stay here and keep the zombies away." I can see a group of three undead already shambling toward us from across the park. Fortunately, none of them are firefighter, just ordinary townspeople (or _former_ ordinary townspeople). I heft my shotgun and turn to face them.

Dan nods and my resolve and runs off across the road. A moment later, the red sedan speeds away to the Sheriff's Office in a cloud of dust.

I look down at the woman. She's trying to crawl on her belly further away from the wreck toward the road. I don't know much about first aid, but I don't need to in order to realize she really should _not_ be moving right now. There's no telling how serious her wounds are beneath all that blood, but crawling along the ground probably isn't doing them any favors. "You need to stay still," I say, but her fingers keep clawing at the dirt, pulling her forward. I kneel down and try to gently grab the shoulder of her dress to stop her. The fabric peels away in my hand, via a blood-soaked tear in the front. I really don't want to see the wound beneath _that_! I try taking her hand instead. Her skin feels like ice, and even a gentle grip stops her from being able to move her hand.

She looks up at me. "C-church…," she says between wet, panting breaths.

"D-do you want me to pray for you?" I ask, uncertain what else I can do. The zombies are still far away across the park, but even with all the time in the world, I don't know how I could help this woman. _What can I offer besides prayer? Without my rifle I can't—_ Then I remember the paramedic zombie I killed outside the firestation earlier today. Suddenly, I have a plan.

The driver uses her free hand to offer me a smartphone with a blood-streaked screen. I close her fingers back around it. "I'm going to help you myself," I tell her. I stand and look over the upside down car at the zombies, who are still wandering vaguely in our direction. I gather my courage. I'll need them close for this to work.

"Hey, ugly!" I shout at the zombies. One of them turns toward me, stumbles forward a few steps, then veers to the right, nearly shambling into a tree. Frustrated, I point my shotgun in the air and pull the trigger. The sound of the gunshot causes all three zombies to straighten and turn their blank white eyes on me. "Yes, I'm talking to you! All of you!" I shout and fire again. Now the zombies start shambling toward me in earnest. I fire again. Two break into a run. The other isn't far behind, despite having a mangled leg. One of them screams. Their arms are outstretched, ready to grasp and tear.

I level my shotgun just as they come around the corner of the car. _Hit and run_, I think, and fire. I catch the first two zombies in the blast. A second shot a moment later finishes the third. The tingle of healing energy washes over me. I glance down at the driver, smiling at my own cleverness. The smile instantly evaporates.

The driver is dead. Her wide eyes stare straight at the sinking sun. Her hand still holds the smartphone, half outstretched to me. My healing was simply too late.

I find myself on my knees beside the woman without having made any conscious decision to be there. My hands shake her shoulders, my mouth mutters, "Please, no!" But my mind knows it's all in vain. I hide my face in my hands, trying to shut my eyes against the tears. They leak out anyway. _Why? Why did she have to die?! She survived the Fog, the zombies…why this?_ I grit my teeth. _I wasn't fast enough. Why wasn't I faster? I didn't see her soon enough! She's dead because I—_

A sudden chime interrupts my thoughts. I lower my hands and blink back the tears enough to see that the smartphone in the woman's hands has lit up. _New Text Message_, it reads. I wonder who it could be. Maybe it's a friend or loved one who's going to grieve this woman's death. Maybe it's another survivor whom she was speeding to save. Whatever the case, I feel like I owe it to this woman to find out and help them any way I can. I take the phone, wiping tears from my eyes with one hand and blood of the screen with the other. Then I open the message.

A series of text messages, all from someone named Kirsten Geary, display on the screen, with the latest one highlighted as unread. I read the first message on the screen without scrolling up. It's from Kirsten: _You are totally exaggerating these wounds. Sure, headwounds bleed a lot. It makes a mess and totally sucks, but suck it up! If you can move and think, that's all we need. Just *think* about your job and *move* over to the church and do it!_

After that, there's a text from Lisa, who must be the woman I failed to save. It's just two hastily keyed words: _cannt walk_

_Fine, just *crawl* over to the church and send me the Hawthorne surveillance. You are like right there! I'll even save you the time and do the hard thinking for you: The control pad is under the stone in front of the church, and the code is the first song he planned to sing Sunday. Got it? Now get moving! We pay you on commission, not hourly!_

The final message, the only unread one, had arrived a few minutes later, and was also from Kirsten. _…Ugh, what the hell, girl. Seriously? You leave me hanging? What a let down. If I don't get that surveillance in five, I'm forwarding to someone else. You know what that means. Fun Fact: In our organization, "termination" means you lose more than just your job._

I sit down in the grass and stare at the phone for a minute. It's terrible that this poor woman spent her last minutes being bullied about some job by an uncaring employer. Instead of deepening my sorrow, however, this knowledge galvanizes my anger. _Who does this "Kirsten Geary" think she is?!_ Then the name connects with something in my memory. _Wait, wasn't Kirsten the name of Dan's contact with the Illuminati? His evidently rude contact?_ Now I remember the moment of recognition that passed between Lisa and Dan, before he ran off to find Kaiyo. The pieces start to fall together.

_She's an Illuminati agent_, I realize. _They must have sent her to collect surveillance. Dan said this whole island was bugged, but that most of the bugs were offline. They sent her to reactivate them while Dan distracted me_. I shake my head. _No, Dan can't be in on this. There's no way he's faking his involvement in this mission…or his attention to me. I saved his life and he saved mine!_ But then, he _is_ Illuminati…

I place the phone on the ground, beside the corpse. I look across the street. About half a block down, I see the unmistakable white-steepled façade of a church. _The message said there's a control panel for the next bug under a rock in front of the church. I have to check it, see if what the message said is true._

I walk across the street. As I do, I see the red sedan coming back toward me. I hold up a hand halfway to signal them to stop, mostly because I know they'll want to talk to me anyway to find out why I'm not with the driver right now. The car comes to a smooth stop beside me. Dan and Kaiyo look out through the hole where the driver's side window used to be. "She's dead," I say, in answer to their unasked question. "There was nothing I could do," I say, which is mostly true. I still think I could have acted faster and saved her life. Then I say, "I-I need to pray," and point to the church. It's true in a way: I do need to pray, but it's not my real motivation. I feel guilty about it, especially using prayer as a cover this way, but I push the guilt aside. Something is going on here, and I don't think I can voice my suspicions in front of Dan, or Kaiyo.

"Well, even dead she might have something useful on her," says Kaiyo. "We should search the body!"

Dan shakes his head and mutters, "Little monster," under his breath. As he drives slowly on toward the wreck, I hear a chime, like that of a smartphone receiving a text.

"What was that?" I hear Kaiyo ask.

"Probably just Kirsten wondering why she just saw me drive off with a Dragon agent in a hurry," Dan answers, then their voices fade into the distance. I wonder if it's something else, though.

I need answers, so I start walking again, setting a faster pace. The church sits on higher ground, about five feet over the level of the street, separated from it by a five foot gray stone wall. There are no rocks down here, but there probably are in the church's front yard, beyond the wall. A set of stone steps provides access from the sidewalk. I start up them. Ahead I can see that the double doors of the old church are standing wide open. _So much for survivors,_ I think.

Suddenly, I hear a noise to my right. A pair of zombies are standing at the base of a tree in front of the church, their arms reaching up and slowly wavering, pawing for something. Above them, a squirrel chatters from the uppermost branches, safely out of reach. The sight is actually somewhat funny, but it distracts me and I miss a step. I catch myself, but the flagstones clatter under me. The zombies turn their dead white eyes from the unreachable squirrel to me. A moment later, they charge!

I'm off balance with my gun pointed the wrong direction. I need a second to prepare, something to throw the zombies off balance and funnel them into my fire. I know just the thing. _The doors to the church should form a natural choke point, and the steps should slow them down_. I dash up the stairs, through the doors, and spin on my heels immediately, bringing my shotgun up. These zombies are better with stairs than the firefighters were. They're right behind me. I point my shotgun at the first zombie's head, ready to fire as soon as he steps through the doorway.

I never pull the trigger. Before I can, white lightning bolts flash out from both doorposts. The smells of ozone and burned meat assault my nostrils. The zombie's body flashes to sinew, then bare bones, and then dust, all in the space of two heartbeats. I'm trying to blink away the afterimage when the second zombie charges through the doorway. Lightning flashes again, disintegrating that zombie as well. Then the only proof that they existed at all is a thin coat of black dust on the tile threshold of the church. I stare at the empty doorway in disbelief.

"Hello," says a voice from behind me. I whirl, shotgun ready. But instead of a monster, I find myself facing a bespectacled man with a graying mustache. He's unarmed, wearing a blue corduroy sweater over a slight build and a frame less than an inch taller than my own.

I lower my gun sheepishly. "Sorry, you startled me," I say.

"Understandable," says the man, visibly relieved to no longer be staring down the barrel of a twelve-gauge. "You can relax now though. You'll be safe in here. Kingsmouth Congregational's doors are always open, and this sacred place is under divine protection…though there may be _other_ sources as well." He makes a small gesture to the deadly doorway. He doesn't dwell on the trap, though, instead extending his hand in greeting to me. "Reverend Henry Hawthorne, at your service," he says.

I shake the hand hesitantly. _Hawthorne_, I think, _the man from the text messages._ The question is whether _the Hawthorne surveillance_ refers to the one responsible for the Illuminati bugs…or the one being observed by them. I decide to play it safe for now. "Chris," I say, introducing myself but withholding my full name.

"An auspicious name," Hawthorne observes. "Short for Christine, I presume. And are you, as the name implies, a follower of Christ?"

"It's Christen actually, but yes."

He smiles. "You're most welcome, then. It's always good to have a visitor these days, especially since my flock has been…considerably reduced." He waves a hand at the white wooden pews that fill the church's sanctuary. They are entirely empty except for one lanky young man in the back. "Christen, allow me to introduce you to Christopher Martin."

The young man rises as I look at him. He has a tired, wary look about him, with dark circles under his eyes and a few rough patches of stubble on his cheeks. When he shakes my hand, he doesn't make eye contact but instead keeps looking past me, out the doors to the rest of Kingsmouth. "You're really lucky you found this place, Christen. I don't know how many there are left, but the whole town's gone to Hell, and come back. Literally. I was lucky enough to be in here with the Reverend when it all started. I thought I was having a crisis of faith but…well, obviously someone out there did something a whole lot worse!"

Hawthorne shakes his head. "A difference of theological opinion," he says. "You mustn't think God did this. The Fog, the dead rising to consume the living…and other things we've glimpsed through the shadows. It's not his style, I tell you. Surely if the good Lord was done with us, He'd send a meteor down to finish the job. Don't you agree, Christen?"

"Well I don't think this is the actual end of the world," I say. "Maybe the zombie apocalypse, but not the Apocalypse from the book of Revelation. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that one is supposed to be global, not local."

Hawthorne's eyes widen and he pushes his glasses up his nose. "It's all local then? The rest of the country hasn't been affected?"

I nod, wondering how much I should tell. I decide the truth won't hurt in this case. "As far as I know, Solomon Island is the only place this has happened to. Hopefully it stays that way."

"I pray that it does, and I shall definitely praise God that it hasn't already happened," says Hawthorne. "We haven't heard anything from the mainland or anywhere else since the Fog rolled in. The computer in my office doesn't even load Google anymore." He smiles then. "It's good to know that loved ones far away are out of harm's way on this one."

Christopher Martin grunts at this. "I don't have anyone on the mainland," he says. "All I've got is right here—and you couldn't pay me to go back outside, whether this is judgment from God or not." He turns and stalks back to his pew, sitting down and slumping over his hands. I can't tell from his posture whether he's in prayer or simply half asleep.

Suddenly, I hear feet on the steps behind me. I turn, expecting to see more zombies, wonder whether I should raise my gun or if the lightning will take care of them. But instead of zombies, I see Kaiyo sprinting toward me. "Chris! I felt these _huge_ discharges of _anima_ and I—" She cuts off suddenly, skidding to a halt just outside the doors, arms splayed in front of her as if she's run into an invisible wall. I don't see any lightning, but I can feel it building in that doorway. The space behind my eyes feels like it's swarming with angry bees. Kaiyo's smile is strained as well. "Um…," she says quietly. "M-maybe I…maybe I shouldn't come in without…you know, being invited…especially this first time…"

Hawthorne smiles, apparently oblivious to the tension Kaiyo and I are feeling. "There's no need to be shy, young lady. No matter what you've done, the good Lord has grace, and the roof _will not_ fall in on you. That I can promise." He waves to her. "Come in! You're most welcome!"

Kaiyo swallows visibly and steps forward. Nothing happens. The sound of angry bees in my skull goes silent. Kaiyo smiles and seems to get immediately back to being her chipper self. She extends a hand. "I'm Kaiyo Yako, agent for the—"

I clear my throat.

"Oh, right! Secrets!" She shakes Hawthrone's hand, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So now that I'm inside, maybe you can show me the wards on the door!"

"_That_'s a ward?" I ask, staring at the space where two zombies were burned to ash only minutes ago.

"Yup!" says Kaiyo.

Hawthorne clears his throat. "Not to belittle the Lord's work, but perhaps it is more than His divine hand that protects us. Perhaps the Illuminated Ones made this place safe through some conjuration of theirs—blessed by the Lord, of course, or at the very least, tolerated."

_Illuminated Ones_, I think to myself, _the Illuminati_. I wonder how much Hawthorne knows, how deep he is in their organization, and what he's been up to on this island. There seems to be a simple way to find out. While Kaiyo quizzes him for specifics about the ward, I look up at one of the small chalkboards at the sides of the sanctuary, that display the songs the congregation planned to sing, listed by hymnal number. The first number is 576. I take a mental note of it and excuse myself from the conversation, stepping cautiously outside.

I'm about to start looking for a rock big enough to hide a control panel in the front yard, but before I've gone two steps down from the church doors, I see a moving shadow on the white picket fence that separates the church's yard from the neighboring houses. The shadow has a trenchcoat and it's moving back and forth, as its owner paces just around the corner from me. I hear Dan's voice, and he's obviously angry.

"Alright, I'm at the fucking church, Kirsten. Where the fuck is it?...You're gonna have to be more fucking specific. …What the fuck was that about? Chris isn't here and neither is Kaiyo. She just went inside. …How the fuck should I know? What am I: a fucking goddamn Templar babysitter?...Yeah! You know that bug is hard to ignore. It's in my fucking spine thank you so fucking much! It itches like hell, and every time I pop my back it shorts out for a few—…Well Cassini can go fuck herself on one of her fucking monitors. She doesn't have to swing around a fucking hammer all day: I do!" He grunts and after a moment's silence he seems calmer—for a little bit, anyway. "Huh, so I guess Lisa wasn't a completely stupid choice. She managed to get one fucking relay up before she got her fucking ass killed and nearly took mine with it. I told you she wasn't cut out for—…Now, wait just a fucking—…Chris and I? Are you kidding? Are you fucking out of your mind?...Jesus Christ! Will you—…Will you just shut the fuck up for a min—…Goddamn it, Kirsten! _Fuck!_ You sound like fucking Q and A!...Yeah, well who'll be facing them this time, huh? Answer me this: did you or did you not write the book—_the whole fucking-goddamn-shitty-piece-of-crap book_—on recruitment procedures?...Yeah, well in that case you'd think you'd remember the shitty crap you fucking wrote!...Will you shut up and listen to me?! This is being recorded, right?... 'Cause if it gets out, they're gonna be playing it at your funeral, _not mine!_ …Yeah, you remember what you wrote about Bees? _At all costs, by any means!_ Those were your exact words: your _exact fucking words!_...She's a Bee, Kirsten! Chris is a fucking Bee, alright?...Come on, you know how good I am at getting the ladies to sign on the dotted line, and you know how I do it: put two and two together!" There was a long pause. "Yeah, that's right! What did you think I was—?" After a second, he guffaws. "Oh, come on, Kirsten-babe, you know there's only one girl for me!" He laughs again, harder this time, then says lightly. "No, I didn't fucking think so. You're immune, on account of having no fucking heart." More laughter. "Yeah, but Chris, however…Trust me, I got this!...Yeah, and I'll get that too once you tell me where the control panel is for the surveillance—…under the rock, west side? Yeah, I see it. What's the code?...What do you mean you don't know?...Fuck Cassini!...Alright, so a song. Like what, the name? The first three notes, what?...A number? Really? And how the fuck am I supposed to know which number?...Fuck Cassini! She just _had_ to get clever on this one. …Yeah, I'll find it. …No, don't bother her. I'm sure she's probably been listening the whole fucking time. She's probably jilling herself off right now to the thought of stumping us with one of her fucking passcodes. …Yeah, later."

Dan comes around the corner, hanging up on his smartphone. I shrink back into the doorway, and he doesn't see me. He's too focused on prying up a rock in front of the church and trying to type in codes to the concealed control panel underneath. I guess that means he's the one Kirsten chose to replace Lisa and get the "Hawthorne Surveillance."

My emotions reel as I think of everything else I overheard in that conversation. I tell myself I shouldn't be surprised by Dan's betrayal and real motivations, but I am. _It felt so real! How could it all be an act, a game to get me to join the Illuminati?_ But it was all an act, all a game. He never really liked me, never really, even for a moment, thought I was beautiful. He was just trying to manipulate me with flattery and kindness. I feel sick. I can't believe I let him into my heart—even for an instant. I clench my hands into fists. _What an idiot I've been!_

Dan is still working over the hidden keypad, muttering a long string of curses under his breath. Evidently, he can't figure out the passcode…but it occurs to me that I already know it, and I may be the only one in our little group who can figure it out. It also occurs to me that surveillance of an Illuminati associate in a church protected by powerful Illuminati wards may be invaluable to the Templars, and to figuring out what's really going on in Kingsmouth. A plan forms in my mind, a nasty plan, buoyed by my emotions rather than scattered by them. It's the sort of manipulation Dan might think up, and he certainly deserves a bit of poetic justice. I force my hands to relax and step down the stairs toward him.

He turns as I approach, reaching for his hammer momentarily before he realizes who I am. Then he relaxes. "You startled me, Chris-babe!" he says, trying to hide the keypad.

"Don't call me that," I snap. My grip tightens around my shotgun, but I try not to let it show. "You're after the Hawthorne surveillance?" I ask, my voice flat.

Dan's eyes widen a bit and he stops trying to hide the keypad. "I was wondering if you'd read those texts." He clears his throat. "Look, I know this looks bad, spying on a preacher and all, but the church here is one of the oldest and best warded buildings on the island. As for the man himself, well Hawthorne is…sort of a fan. He likes to dig around a lot on the back end of the internet, trying to figure out our secrets—but he's also got a big mouth. It's in everyone's best interest if keep an eye on him."

I nod. It seems reasonable, but after everything that's happened, I don't trust him. "I want the surveillance," I say. "We'll split it three ways, like the footage from the security cameras in the early warning system we made. You can do that, right?"

"Well, sure I can _do_ it, and a whole lot easier with this than with that piece of….useless technology back at the Sheriff's Office," he says, taking out his smartphone. "But I can't just _do_ it, see? You're beautiful and all, but I don't want my boss to think I'm _conspiring with the enemy_, you know."

His compliment has no effect on me, and I expected him to say something like this. I decide to play my trump card. "I know what the passcode is," I say.

"You do? Seriously?"

I nod.

"What is it?"

I cross my arms. "Are you going to share the surveillance?"

He shrugs. "What the he—I mean, what does it matter? Sure. There's nothing to share if I don't have the passcode, right?" He types on his smartphone for a minute, then shows me a complex segment of computer code. "This'll split the surveillance two ways: one for your boss, one for mine. Fair?"

I stare at the code for a minute. Unfortunately, I know nothing about computers, so he might very well have just typed up a paragraph of absolute gibberish for all I know. I'll have to take some additional precautions, and the only way I know to tell for sure is to go through with it, and then check his work. I give him the code. "The passcode is 576."

Dan keys it in experimentally, then taps a key on his smartphone. He smiles. "Well, there it goes! The feed's live on both sides. Thanks for the—" His voice cuts off abruptly and he freezes as I press the muzzle of my shotgun to the back of his neck. "Chris…what are you doing?" he asks slowly.

"Checking your work," I say. I dig out my own smartphone and dial Sonnac with one hand, the other holding the gun with my finger on the trigger.

Sonnac picks up on the first ring. "Chris, I was wondering when we might have the pleasure of speaking again!" he says, sounding moderately cheerful. "We must received another set of video feeds from Solomon Island. I suspected you had something to do with that."

"It's from the Illuminati," I warn. "Check it."

"Well, the Illuminati know better than to try and infiltrate our systems—nearly all of our pertinent information resides solely on paper," Sonnac says. "Nevertheless, the videos seem clean, or at least have not triggered any of our alarms yet. We have good audio and visual from multiple cameras inside the church and outside it." There was a long pause. I can imagine him checking those videos and seeing one me and Dan in one of them. There's probably a camera pointed straight at us right now. When Sonnac's voice returns, it is slow and level, betraying no tension, but obviously not as jovial as he was when the call began. "Perhaps I should call back later," he says. "You seem to be…preoccupied."

"I was just leaving," I say. I step away from Dan and walk carefully down the steps to the street, keeping my shotgun trained on him with one hand the entire way.

"What the hell, Chris! What the fucking hell!" Dan grabs his hammer, but doesn't dare to rise. His face is contorted, as if in pain. I guess he's really good at pretending to be emotionally wounded when it suits him—but I know what he's really like. I don't respond until I'm at the sidewalk and he says, "Where the hell are you going?!"

"Away," I say. "Do yourself a favor and _don't_ follow me." With that warning, I turn and job back up the street toward the Sheriff's Office.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The continuation of the cliffhanger in chapter 18! Here at last is a new location with new NPCs. Welcome to Kingsmouth Congregational Church and it's beloved pastor who think's he's such a secret agent for being with the Illuminati, but is actually worse at keeping secrets than Kaiyo. Here also, Kirsten Geary and Dan interact regarding his flirtations. I had actually been planning to have this scene occur pretty much as soon as I began this little arc of chapters. I'm sure the fallout from what Chris overheard will be with us for a while. Certainly her holding a gun to Dan's head is going to be something not soon forgotten!

This story follows the "Dirty Laundry" side mission from the game, with a few differences. Mostly what's different is the fact that, in the game, the car crash and the death of the other Illuminati agent take place long before the player arrives on the scene. However, I didn't want to do that as Chris has already made two previous visits to this park without encountering this quest's storyline, so instead I made it a more immediate concern. Second, in the game the name of laundry woman is never given, though Illuminati players will be told "remember the girl in the laundromat?" Early in the Illuminati tutorial, you visit a laundromat where the only named woman is Lia, who the local self-proclaimed Illuminati expert declares is definitely not Illuminati. I thought it would be fun to contradict him. Otherwise the mission is virtually the same. (EDIT: I have been informed by MaddKossack115's helpful review that the only named woman in that scene is actually none other than Leah Cassini, who turns out not only to be an Illuminati agent, but actually the head of their IT department. Turns out The Secret World—or maybe the Illuminati—was one step ahead of me the whole time! I have since edited the chapter to change the driver's name to "Lisa" so as to avoid any confusion, since LEAH Cassini is definitely still alive in this story. Thanks, MaddKossack115!)

Chris' full name, "Christen" does mean "Christ follower." I thought that would be the sort of thing Hawthorne would both be aware of and get a kick out of.

Kaiyo's moment with the ward is based on the fact that she's part vampire, and in vampire lore there's an old superstition that vampires (and sometimes other creatures) could only enter a house if invited inside by the owners (who, of course, they would trick into doing just that).

I hope you've enjoyed the double update! Sorry it was so long in the making!


	20. Under Duress

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Under Duress**_

_Friday, November 3, 5:39pm  
Corner of Arkham Avenue and Lovecraft Lane, Approaching the Sheriff's Office  
Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

I'm only about a dozen yards down the sidewalk when I realize my cell phone is still in my hand and still on. I can hear Sonnac's voice. I slow down and hold it to my ear.

"Chris? What is going on? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," I say. "Sorry, I just had to get out of there—and away from _him_!"

"I see." There's a pause. "I never thought I would have to say this to you, but acts of violence against Illuminati personnel—outside of select, discrete warzones—risks breaking our truce. I can only condone it in the most extreme situations, and only then as a last resort."

"I wasn't trying to kill him," I say. At least I don't think so.

"That at least is good to hear," says Sonnac. "May I ask what proceeded this altercation?"

I sigh and tell him everything that happened since we went out to help Moose make bombs. Sonnac listens without comment, simply encouraging me to go on, until I tell him about the driver, Reverend Hawthorne, and the conversation I overheard between Dan and his Illuminati contact.

"I wish I could say Mr. MacFadden's actions were surprising," Sonnac says at last, "but the truth is they're very much to be expected of an Illuminati recruiter. You're hardly the first agent they'd attempted to lure away from us in this manner, and I doubt very much that you'll be the last."

I study my feet. "I know. That's what upsets me the most! I should have known! I should have seen this coming!" I kick a pebble sullenly. It bounces five times and comes to rest in front of the barricade surrounding the Sheriff's Office. I wait in silence till the gate is opened by a tired-eyed woman in yoga pants stained with grease, dirt, and blood. Then I slip inside without a word and head straight for a private corner.

It's Sonnac who first breaks the silence. "You mustn't blame yourself for his deception," he say. "MacFadden's actions are his alone. Nevertheless, they do not constitute justification for killing him and starting an all-out war between the cabals. None of us are prepared to fight that kind of war right now, and the world can ill afford it. Furthermore, given the situation on Solomon Island, it is an unfortunate reality that you shall be forced to work together with the other agents sooner or later."

"I know," I say, though in truth I hadn't been thinking about that. "I'll work with him and I _won't_ kill him," I promise. That last part, I think, should really go without saying, but I suppose I _did_ just threaten him with a shotgun. I shot my eyes as though that could block out all the embarrassing memories of the last few hours. "I'm sorry I got carried away when I found out he was lying to me."

"I'm sorry you had to learn this harsh reality firsthand," Sonnac says, his voice sympathetic. "The island seems to have taught you a number of difficult lessons today. One cannot help but lament the fate of the poor woman on the pier: having in her possession a pendant that protected her from the Fog only to lose newly wed her husband to those very same horrors. One might even call it irony. We'd very much like to study the pendant, if you can send it our way. Even damaged, such pieces of arcane warding are of utmost interest.

"The Draug activity on the beach is definitely the most troubling news however," he says. "Very little is known about the Draug, but it seems unlikely that they would come all the way to Solomon Island for simple reproduction. An invasion is more likely, but how, why, and to what extent—those are the critical questions we must be able to answer before we'll be able to counter them properly."

"You need me to go back to the beach, then," I say, "scout out the Draug?"

"As soon as possible, yes," he says. "But you should not risk going alone, and if the events of this morning proved anything, it's the necessity of using a more strongly fortified position for your base. Mr. Jansen—"Moose" as he prefers—is known to us, and his explosives will no doubt be useful as a defensive measure. But you should also consider the church: a powerfully warded structure like that could withstand far greater attacks than a simple barricade of junk."

"But can we trust Hawthorne? I'm pretty sure he's with the Illuminati."

Sonnac chuckles. "Henry Hawthorne is no more with the Illuminati than your brother is with us—in fact considerably less so."

"What do you mean?"

"Well both of them have seen through the lies and internet hoaxes and caught a glimpse of the Secret World, but there's no evidence that the Illuminati ever worked with Hawthorne," Sonnac explains. "Certainly Mr Hawthorne is an afaficionado of theirs—no accounting for taste, I suppose—and he does know enough for them to want to keep their eyes on him, but he's hardly a man on the inside. We would classify him as relatively harmless—especially now that we have him under observation as well."

I nod slowly. The idea of a pastor even being _fascinated_ by the Illuminati is still revolting to me, but I guess he and the church are still safe enough—probably safer than the Sheriff's Office if there's another Draug warmonger out there, or if another one hatches. "Kaiyo's probably checking out the wards right now," I say. "As soon as I hear back from her, I'll tell the Sheriff and suggest we move the survivors."

"You won't be able to do it alone," Sonnac warns.

I sigh. "I'll apologize to Dan for threatening him," I say. I don't say I'll forgive him. I don't really have any intention of doing that.

"Good," says Sonnac, hearing only my words and not my thoughts. "True peace may be impossible, but at least this way you won't have to waste too much energy watching your back, or start a war no one can afford to wage right now." He pauses, then says, "In the meantime, you should call your brother. He's been consolidating our information on the Draug for us, giving us places to look for them worldwide. So far our searches have turned up nothing, which is information in itself, as it means their usual patterns of behavior have been altered globally. We should know more by morning when our other agents reach the most distant sites, and be able to draw a better conclusion then, even if it's that we simply have no idea where the Druag are or what they're up to. Either way, we are grateful for Micah Warden's contributions."

"I'll tell him you said so." I smile a little at the thought of how excited he'll be at the news. I say goodbye to Sonnac, then lift my phone to my ear again as it dials Micah's number.

The phone rings four times before my brother picks up. "Hey, Chris! What's up?" asks Micah's voice. I hear typing in the background. "Did you see my email yet?"

I laugh nervously. "Honestly, it's been so chaotic here I completely forgot about it—and I _still_ don't know how to do it on my smartphone."

"Well, I'd be happy to offer you a lesson in Smartphones for Sisters 101 sometime, but what I _really_ want to hear about is what's happening on the island. I've got so many theories after reading up on the Draug!"

I manage a real laugh at that. Then my face sobers as I tell him everything that's happened today. He listens with only occasional questions, most of which I don't know the answer to—such as what was with the dead woman's necklace that made her come back as a ghost. When I finish he says, "Wow, so Dan is a jerk and the Draug come from eggs. Wouldn't have called that last one!"

"Yeah," I say, but quickly shift the subject away from Dan. "So now that you've heard, any theories about the Draug?"

"Maybe a couple. It's kind of hard to say without more information." I hear him zip up his backpack in the background. "I'm getting some weird looks for being on my phone in the library. I'll tell you my theories on the way to the bus stop."

"What were you doing at the library?" I ask. Unlike me, Micah almost never reads anything that isn't online.

"I was using their computers to send the Temp—I mean, our, uh, _mutual friends_—the results of my research. The home computer went on the fritze this morning, so Dad's getting it fixed," Micah explains. In the background I hear hinges squeak. It's a familiar sound to me: I don't think my hometown library's front door has ever had its hinges greased. Once he's outside, Micah asks, "So, aren't you gonna ask _what_ I was researching?" I can hear the smile in his voice.

I smile as well. "The locations where Draug can normally be found, or so I gather," I say. "Sonnac already told me about it. He says thanks, by the way. You've been a great help!" I pause. "I'm really proud of you, Micah."

I'm expecting some sort of response to that: maybe mock disgust at an older sister's affection, definitely excitement over Sonnac's praise. But on the other end, everything is silent.

"Micah?"

There's no answer, but I hear a woman's voice, indistinctly, the way I overheard the bully in the hall over the phone this morning. "Micah Warden?" she says. "Get in the car. Now!"

Something is very, very wrong!

I hear a car door slam. The woman speaks again, her voice louder, closer. "Who's on the phone? Your sister?"

"T-the police," Micah lies.

The woman laughs. "Nice try, kid, but we pretty much own the police—and we're not fucking stupid! We couldn't trace the number just now, so we know it's either your sister or that secret society of medieval drama queens...and I'm betting you wouldn't have come out of the library grinning because you were talking to some old fuck in a cloak. Put your sister on speaker phone! I need to have a word with her, and you."

"She has a gun, Chris," Micah whispers.

Helpless terror grips me like never before in my life, not even facing monsters literally from my nightmares. I feel like my blood's been turned into ice water. I hold my phone in a white-knuckled grip, but there's nothing I can do to protect my brother. "Do whatever she says, Micah," I whisper. "Put me on speaker phone."

There's a loud tone, then I hear the woman clearly. "Evening, Christen! ...but you prefer Chris, isn't that right?"

"Who are you and what do you want with my brother?" I demand.

"Oh, come on! You're telling me you don't already know? The Templars sure do like 'em dumb!" She snorts. "I'll make it simple for you, then. Bring it down to your level. Your brother hacked into one of our secured networks. And you? You just held a gun to the head of one of my field agents. I'm just returning the favor."

Micah gasps in the background. "Chris!"

I bare my teeth. I know ho it is now. "You're Dan's handler for the Illuminati: Kirsten Geary."

"That's right, but you can just call me _Your Worst Nightmare_."

"Leave my brother out of this!" I hiss through clenched teeth.

"Your brother got himself into this," Geary retorts. "And he's a big boy—aren't you Micah?"

"Chris, I'm scared," Micah says. His voice is barely above a whisper and its tense with fear like I've never heard it before, and never want to hear again!

I try to swallow, un-grit my teeth. My anger isn't helping things. "Kirsten, please...just don't hurt my brother!"

"Why not?" she challenges. "Upholding the oh-so-precious truce with the Templars? Everyone knows that ship has sailed. It's only a matter of time until the shitbags in London and Venice figure it out."

Helplessness fuels my rage. I feel a headache coming on, my first in days. I clench my free hand so hard the nails dig into my palm, but it only makes me angrier still. "Kirsten, I swear to God if you do _anything_ to my brother, anything at all, I will _kill_ Dan MacFadden and I will _kill_ you next!"

Kirsten laughs off my threat. "It's super cute that you think you have a chance, and maybe even cuter that you think I actually give a fuck what happens to MacFadden. He's such an incompetent dick! But as it happens, he's got an item bonded to him that's worth more than stupid ass, so I need him alive...for now anyway. So I'm willing to talk. Here's the deal: I'll let the irritating Warden siblings go with just a warning—but I want something from each of you in exchange."

"What do you want?" Micah whispers.

"From you? Keep your nose out of our things, and think long and hard about what side of the Secret War you want to be on," says Kirsten. "Don't let me hear of you again until you're ready to give the _smart_ answer.

"As for you, Chris, " she says. "I want my field agent alive and free to do his job—and I want you to keep your hands off him. Do that, and I won't have to arrange an _accident_ for your father and brother."

I can feel hot tears sliding down my cheeks. "I...am...going...to...kill...you," say, letting the words come out low and slow, like a growl.

"It'll be entertaining to watch you try. Unfortunately, I have more important things to do." A door opens. "This is your stop, kid, home sweet home. Get out, and pray to whatever god suits your fancy that we never meet again."

The door slams again, and I hear a car engine retreat into the distance. "Micah? Are you okay?" I ask urgently. I hear breathing on the other end but nothing else. "Talk to me, Micah! Please!"

"I'm okay," he says weakly. "I'm okay, Chris! She didn't shoot me. It was close for a second, but...thank God you were there to stop her!"

I'm really not sure I did anything to help the situation at all, but I'm too grateful to hear my brother's voice again to nitpick at his words. "I'm so glad you're okay!" I say. "I'm _so_, so sorry I dragged you into this!"

"Well to be fair, I did kinda jump in with both feet, all on my own," he says. "I guess I should have been more careful." There's a pause. "I'll have to tell Dad about this. He'll probably want to talk to you too, after we call the police."

"Micah, you heard what she said about the police. The Illuminati—"

"Are something Dad doesn't understand like we do, and hopefully Dad never will," my brother says. "And this is _Dad_ we're talking about here. Odds are he'd try calling the cops anyway because it was _the right thing_."

I nod. Micah's right of course. My dad can be incredibly stubborn. "Be careful," I tell him. "I'll call Sonnac and let him now what happened. I...I love you."

"Me, too, Sis," Micah says. Then he hangs up.

I find myself breathing hard despite the fact that I was never the one in any danger. I fumble with my phone, pulling up Sonnac's number and calling it.

He answers before it's even halfway through the first ring. "Chris!"

"Micah was just kidnapped by an Illuminati agent at gunpoint!"

"Yes, I just received word from our agent monitoring the situation," says Sonnac.

I blink, astonished. "You've had someone watching my brother?"

"Yes, since before his attempt to crack Illuminati network security," says Sonnac. "It was purely as a precaution. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I didn't want you to be alarmed. Honestly, we'd believed the chance of something like this happening was very small. Obviously, we were wrong."

Ordinarily a lot of things would bother me about Sonnac's confession, like how he was spying on my family, or how he kept me in the dark. But right now, my mind is fixated on one thing only. "My little brother just had a _loaded gun_ pressed up against his head! Why didn't your agent _do something!?"_

"Because he was in no position to intervene."

"Why not?"

Sonnac sighs. "Chris, I understand that this is traumatic for you, but please, try to appreciate our situation. We are stretched to the very limits in terms of manpower. Three days ago, you were the most talented agent we had available. The sort of people we're sending out now are agents are simply not as powerful. Even if we had such agents available, getting one of them into the Illuminati's backyard would be virtually impossible. The agent watching your brother was a spy we try to keep out of combat as much as possible. His only means of self-defense is a switchblade and his wits—and those these are considerable assets in a pinch, they were nowhere equal to what your brother faced today. The woman who abducted him was a high-level member of the Illuminati managerial group, and not only did she have a gun, but she was escorted by an agent whose powers are at least on the same level as your own. I trust you can imagine what would have happened had our agent attempted to intervene. Your brother certainly would have been killed. As it was, I'm told Mrs Geary never had her finger on the trigger. She is a professional: she intended only to intimidate, not to kill."

"And what if she _had_ intended to kill? What if she'd shot my brother?" I realize I'm crying, but I don't care and can't stop anyway. "What's going to stop her from following through next time? What's going to stop there from _being_ a next time?"

"You are," says Sonnac. "Our agent got close enough to use some eavesdropping equipment toward the end of the call. While I must say I'm not usually a great proponent of death threats, yours today served a point. It reminded Mrs Geary that we Templars are the lions of the Secret World, and we are neither declawed nor defanged. We have the largest military assets of the three cabals, and rest assured the Illuminati know it. War between our societies may be an eventuality, but they will not lightly hasten it, especially with a situation like Solomon Island on their doorstep. They know now that harming your brother would cause one of our powerful agents to declare a personal crusade against them, with the rest of our organization to follow. With your courage backed by our might, we will keep your family safe."

"I hope so," I say, wiping my eyes. "God, please let it be so!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** So this is a weird chapter that took a while to write, but there was a lot I wanted to get done on the phone, resolving earlier points and setting up some new ones. All of this chapter is pretty much original, with only a brief head-nod to Sonnac's response at the end of the "Journey's End" sidequest.

Several readers have been asking for a while for Chris to meet Kirsten Geary, and imagining just how badly that meeting would go. This seemed like a good opportunity. The Illuminati have probably been planning on paying Micah a visit ever since he hacked them a few chapters back. That Chris and Dan were getting involved in multiple ways was probably enough for Kirsten to take matters into her own hands. While I haven't played Illuminati characters too much in the game, I definitely get the feeling that Kirsten Geary is not above doing her own dirty work when she feels it's called for. At one point she does refer to herself as "more of a .44 girl" and she definitely does have a violent history. I hope I've done her in-game portrayal justice. Chris, for her part, definitely has some mother-bear tendencies toward her little brother, even if she doesn't really have any way to carry them out.

Thank you all for your ideas and support! I'm very grateful for you all!


	21. Honesty

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Honesty**_

_Friday, November 3, 6:45pm  
Sheriff's Office  
Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

The rest of the evening passes quickly. I eat a can of corn in the Sheriff's Office while telling her and Moose about the Draug on the beach and the potential shelter of the church, pending Kaiyo's verdict on whether or not the wards will continue to hold up. Bannerman decides to keep both pieces of information to herself. "People are riled enough around here as it is," she says. "Don't need to get 'em started about the big blue creeps breedin' or the church bein' zombie-proof—at least till we know for sure."

Moose nods. "Some things are best not contemplated by the ordinary man, lest they be misunderstood. I'd like to think better of the group we've got here, especially Andy, but these are dark days and Helen's probably right about this one." He pauses and looks me in the eye. "I'm mighty grateful for your help on my collection of deadly projects. I should have some ready tomorrow, in case we need them to keep the zomibes occupied whist we relocate ourselves."

"I'll let you know what Kaiyo says," I tell them.

Then my phone rings. It's my home phone number from Colorado, the family landline. "I've got to take this," I say, excusing myself. I turn and walk outside, to the isolated corner under the stairs before answering the phone. "Dad?"

"Chris!" his voice answers, full of worry. "Micah told me what happened this afternoon. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say. "I wasn't the one being held at gunpoint."

"But you heard it happen." My dad sighs and I can almost see him closing his eyes over tears of fatherly concern. "We told the police, and since you're a witness, the officer would like to talk to you about it. Can you do that for me?"

I swallow, unsure of this. _Can the police really be trusted?_ I've never had to ask that question before in my life, but with the Illuminati about, it seems an open question. Nevertheless, for my Dad's sake I say, "Yes."

"Okay, I'll put Officer Cole on," Dad says.

A moment later a strange man's voice comes on, sounding young, but strong, somewhat resonate, and definitely self-assured. "Officer Cole, CSPD," he says, introducing himself. "Good evening, Ms..."

"Miss Warden," I say. "But I prefer Chris."

"Your full name?" he prompts.

"Christen Alexis Warden. I'm Micah's older sister."

"Yes, so I've heard," says the officer. "And you've been travelling abroad?"

"I've been studying in London, at the University of Greenwich, on a Fairchild International Scholarship," I say. It feels like an eternity ago that the scholarship was the most exciting thing in my life, but it's only really been two weeks.

"And are you there now?" asks Cole.

I pause. "No," I say. "I'm in Maine, on a school trip."

"You certainly do a lot of traveling for school, Ms Warden."

"_Miss_, " I say. While I certainly enjoy some aspects of feminism, I think the battle over suffixes is silly, and I'd rather be grammatically correct than politically correct.

Cole ignores me. "And where are you in Maine, Ms Warden?"

I really don't want to tell him that, as it will lead to all sorts of uncomfortable questions. Instead I say, "I don't see how that makes any difference, Officer. My brother was just held at _gunpoint_, not me. I only witnessed it over the phone!"

"We're well aware of the allegations, Ms Warden," says Cole. "But if they're to be taken seriously, we must have your cooperation."

"_If they're to be taken seriously?!_"

"Please answer the question, Ms Warden," says Cole, nonplussed. "Where in Maine are you at this time?"

I grit my teeth, trying to clamp down on my anger. "Kingsmouth," I say at last.

"Kingsmouth on Solomon Island, correct?"

_Stupid, stupid girl!_ I think. _You should have chosen a different town: any town! But no, you let him get to you!_ I sigh. It's too late to change my story now, and I suppose it's better to go down telling the truth anyway. "Yes," I say, mentally preparing for the barrage of questions sure to follow.

But Cole simply moves on. "And what were you doing at approximately 4pm today?"

I pause, doing the mental arithmetic. 4pm in Colorado is 6pm on Solomon Island...though there's really only one event he can be referring to, I just want to make sure before I answer. "I was calling my brother, and he'd just left the public library there in town—"

"You called him from Solomon Island, correct?" he says.

"Yes..." It worries me that he's fixated on that one difficult-to-explain fact, but it's strange that, having fixated on it, he's yet to ask any questions about it. I try to redirect the conversation. "Anyway, I overheard a woman's voice tell him to get into a car, then she threatened him with a gun."

"You know all of this because of a voice?"

"Well, yes," I say, flustered. "I could hear her threatening him over the phone."

"Could you _describe_ the voice?"

"I—well I guess I could try," I say, thinking back. "Kind of high-ish, but with a bitter undertone...sounded young...young for an adult, I mean..." I fumble.

"I'm afraid that's not much to go on, Ms Warden," says Cole.

"Look, she said her name was Kirsten Geary," I say. Technically, _I_ said it, not her, but she did acknowledge it, so it's true.

Cole isn't buying it though. "I'm afraid we're going to need proof, Ms Warden."

"Proof?!" I repeat, my frustration rising. "You've got two witnesses! That should be proof enough!"

"Your brother is obsessed with internet conspiracy theories, and you claim to be calling from an island no one has heard from since it went under quarantine four days ago," says Cole. "Frankly, neither of you are credible witnesses."

"What kind of proof do you want?"

"A recording of the phone call would be a good start," says Cole. "Of course, we can't get one, can we? We already tried tracking the call an hour ago and got nowhere. We really have no reason at all to believe that the call in question ever happened, much less to give credence to the wild accusations of Ms Geary associated with it."

I'm dumbfounded for a moment. Then I remind myself that this is exactly what I should have expected. I wonder if there's anything I could have said differently. But as I review the conversation mentally, I begin to notice the discrepancies. _Why would the police have tried to trace the call an hour ago? An hour ago it was being made, they didn't know anything about it! Also, how does he know about Micah's obsession? None of us have ever been in trouble with the cops, and I know Micah wouldn't have volunteered that information to a stranger! And then there's the way he referred to Kirsten Geary just now..._ I remind myself that the US is the Illuminati's back yard, and Geary did say she owned the police. I had expected that to take a more impersonal form, like some corporate lawyer somewhere who knows all the ins and outs of the legal system deftly burying the case under a mountain of red tape before anything could come of it...not the very first cop on the scene, who interrogates me over the phone as if I'm the suspect, not Geary. I can see only one explanation for this, and it makes my fury rise. I drop my voice low, letting a hint of the cold anger seep in as I ask, "How much are they paying you to bury this case, Officer Cole?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," says Cole, but the reply is too ready, almost rehearsed.

"I'm sure you do," I say. "Tell me, when the Illuminati bought you for this job, did they tell you that you'd be lying to an ignorant, harmless college girl...or were they honest enough to say you'd be trying to con a trained and deadly soldier of the Templars?"

In the silence on the other end, I hear Officer Cole swallow.

"You do what you have to do, Mr Cole," I say, clenching my fist. "I don't need the help of a dirty cop like you. Just remember to leave my family alone, or you'll be wishing you had! Because if I can survive on Solomon Island in the middle of a disaster the likes of which you can't even imagine, just think how easy it would be for me to take out a piece of garbage like you, if I wanted to. _Don't_ give me a reason," I warn.

"T-this conversation's over," says Cole, his self-confidence evaporated.

"Yes it is," I say and clench my teeth.

I'm still calming down from that exchange when my Dad comes back on the line. "Chris?...What was that about? Why did you tell him you were on Solomon Island? You know that's the place I told you about, with the bad flu epidemic, right?"

I sigh. I'm tired of lying to my dad, and he deserves to know the truth, especially now that his life may be endangered because of it. "I told him because it's the truth, Dad," I say. "I'm in Kingsmouth right now."

"Kingsmouth?"

"It's the town on the island," I say.

"Are you serious?" I hear his concern rising. "Sweetie, you've _got_ to get out of there! I'ts not safe. That whole island is still under quarantine!"

"I know, Dad, and trust me: what's going on here is worse than any flu outbreak. But I'm okay, honest I am. I'm protected from what's going on here, not perfectly, but well enough for me to stay alive."

"Protected? Sweetie, what are you talking about?"

"It's...hard to explain," I say, studying the dried brown bloodstains on my sneakers. "It's a gift...a power."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...," I falter, trying to think of the best way to explain this. I decide it's probably best to start at the beginning. "Look, do you remember the gas explosion in my apartment last week? The thing is, there wasn't _actually_ a gas explosion. There was actually just...me."

"You're not making any sense, Chris," says Dad, concern fading into confusing and impatience. "Did you _cause_ the gas explosion?"

"No, Dad, I did it by myself, no gas, just my own power...magic power," I say. "It all started one night after I accidentally swallowed a bee. After that I could shoot fire and lightning, but I couldn't control it, so I made a huge mess of my apartment. Then the Templars—"

"Wait, stop right there," Dad interrupts. His tone has gone from impatient straight past incredulous to angry. I swallow at the sound. "Do you think this is a joke? Your brother was just kidnapped and held at gunpoint on his way home! Do you think that's a laughing matter?"

"No!" I say quickly, "But I'm _not_ joking!"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe any of that? Really, Chris?"

I don't know what to say to that. Honestly, I can't say I expected him to believe, but I still hoped...

"I expect this sort of thing from your brother, but not from you," Dad says, his voice now in that solemn tone reserved for when one of us is in trouble. "I'm disappointed in you, Chris."

"But I'm telling the truth!" I insist.

"Don't lie to me!"

My cheeks heat. I feel tears in my eyes. "I'm not lying, Dad. I did before, when I didn't think you'd believe me, but I'm through lying now! I'm just...I'm just disappointed that you don't trust me."

"Don't use that tone with me, young lady!"

"I'm not a little girl anymore," I say. "The world is a lot more complicated and dangerous than you believe...and so am I!"

"Don't try to tell me about the way the world works when you and your brother won't stop believing in fairy tales!"

"_It...is...the...truth!_" I say.

Dad won't listen, though. "I'm calling Greenwich there in London to confirm the details of your school trip to Maine," he says.

"They won't have them because there _is_ no school trip," I say. "I'm here on Solomon Island with the Templars." Well, _for_ the Templars, but close enough.

Dad grunts. "We're not having this conversation now, young lady," he says sternly. "I love you. You're my daughter, but your not behaving rationally right now. Call me back when you're ready to tell the truth!"

"But Dad—" I start to say. The harsh sound of the dial tone cuts me off. He's already hung up on me.

I slump against the wall, letting the phone fall out of my hands. That was about the worst phone call I've had in my life—or it would have been had I not just heard my brother kidnapped and held at gunpoint just an hour ago. I feel tears creeping down my cheeks. I try to wipe them away. _I couldn't have expected Dad to believe everything right away_, I tell myself, but that doesn't mean the distrust stings any less. I wonder if my relationship with my father will ever be the same again, or if I've permanently damaged it. I try not to think about it, but the tears run a little more freely.

Suddenly, I hear a man clear his throat nearby. I look up to find Dan standing a few feet away, hammer resting on his shoulder, but gripped with both hands. "Moose said you might be here," he says.

I reach into my coat and draw one of my pistols, but don't point it at him. "What do _you_ want?" I ask, glaring at him.

"I just wanna talk, honest!" he says, raising one hand in a gesture of surrender, though the other still grips the haft of the sledgehammer. "Just a few questions, you know? Like: _what the fuck is going on?_ for starters."

I look away from him, not wanting to answer. This is not a conversation that I want to have right now, not aver everything else I've been through.

But Dan is insistent. "Come on, Chris! At least tell me why you tried to kill me back at the church."

"I wasn't _trying_ to kill you," I say. "I just...put a gun to your head, that's all." I sigh. The words sound incredibly stupid, even to me, but I'm unwilling and unable to revoke them, and far too emotionally drained to care what I say to a lying scoundrel anyway. "Consider it payback for your boss doing the same to my little brother."

"My boss? Kirsten Geary?"

I nod without looking up.

Dan winces. "Jesus, that bitch is psycho! Is he okay?"

I nod again, though this time I cast a glance at him.

"Thank God for that," says Dan, though I don't think he means it literally. He runs his hand through his hair. "Look, Chris, you've got to believe me: I had _nothing_ to do with this, and I'm _really_, really sorry about Geary. She is an utter asshole."

"Are you sorry it happened, or are you just sorry you won't be able to recruit me into the Illuminati anymore?"

He eyes me askance. "What kind of a question is that?"

"I overheard your conversation with Kirsten outside of the church."

"Oh," says Dan. He tugs at his thin beard. "Fuck me." He leans back against the wall and lets his hammer rest on the ground in front of him. "Look, Chris, you've gotta understand: that message wasn't for you."

"Obviously."

Dan shakes his head. "I didn't mean it like that. What I mean to say...uhg." He leans this way and that for a moment, and I can hear his back pop. Then he pitches his voice lower. "What I mean is sometimes you gotta say something for your boss, tell her what she wants to hear, whether it's true or not, just to get her off your back, you know? I really _do_ like you."

"Really? Or are you just telling me what _I_ want to hear?"

"Chris-babe—We've worked and fought together, saved each other's asses... You know me."

"No, I don't" I say, turning away from him and holstering my pistol. "It's best if we keep it that way. I promised your boss I'd work with you and help you if she left my family alone. As long as she keeps up her end of the bargain, we'll maintain a strict _professional_ relationship."

"And if she doesn't?" Dan asks. "I mean, she can be a _real_ bitch!"

I look up and meet Dan's eyes, but I say nothing. I'd been planning on coldly retorting, _In that case, I'll kill you first_, but I can't say that to his face. I can't even think about it seriously. The concern in his eyes just seems so earnest, even though I know it must be a part of his act...and even though I hate to admit it, he _is_ handsome.

_Dan's not responsible for Geary's actions_, I remind myself. _I won't stoop to her level. I won't go after someone for something they didn't do_. "If that happens, I'll leave you and go after Geary personally."

"Well, it's about fucking time somebody did," Dan mutters. "I'll hold her and you punch, okay?"

I smirk in spite of myself, but manage to wipe it off before he sees. I remind myself that I still have many perfectly valid reasons to be angry with him, and none of them things I'm willing to forgive him for today.

There's an awkward silence, then Dan lifts his hammer back to his shoulder again. "I should get back to helping Moose," he says. "Kaiyo's spending the night at the church. She says the wards there have enough power to take down a shitton or two more zombies, plus their big blue overlords—so we should be safe there. She's going to try expanding the wards to cover the churchyard, so there'll be more space when we bring in the rest of the survivors tomorrow morning." He pauses. "You should get some rest, while you can."

With that, he walks away, back into the main compound. I stay for a few minutes more, my mind awash in the turbulent emotions the past day has brought. But it's starting to get cold outside. I zip up my coat and head into the office, looking for a place to bed down.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the support and feedback! Dan and Chris are definitely going to be feeling the events from last chapter, even if Chris does decide not to kill him over them. Good to know that Kirsten might literally kill for a latte, though ;P I'm glad I was finally able to bring her in!

Sorry for another dialogue-heavy drama chapter. This should suffice, however, to wrap up the last two chapters and set up the next one, which will have _much_ more action.

One thing to keep in mind when Chris talks to Cole is that the concerned party (her father, and any other officers who may or may not be present) can only hear his side of it...and it doesn't sound good. That in fact, is his point. I've tried to keep the details in Chris' conversation with Officer Cole as real as possible, even if the actual conversation obviously is not (I _hope_ police never bully witnesses in order to bury their testimony this way!). Thus CSPD refers to the Colorado Springs Police Department (a large municipality with numerous smaller outlying towns) and the University of Greenwich actually is a London-based university. The Fairchild International Scholarship, however, is a name I just drew from the air. There _is_ a real Fairchild Scholarship, but it's for engineering and, as far as I know, does not involve studying abroad.

It has been _exactly_ two weeks since the opening scene of _Lit Majors Shoots Lightning_, the night that Chris swallowed a bee and gained her powers. Considering everything that's happened, she's adjusting fantastically well!

There is a slight but detectable difference in the pronunciation of "Ms" [miz] and "Miss" [mis]. "Ms" is considered grammatically correct by most, including the author, but there are some—including respected women writers and editors—who detest the word. For Chris, her distaste is more founded in a distaste for all things politically correct rather than any particular grammatical objections.

I listened to some of the cutscenes with Kirsten Geary on Youtube and described it as best I could without any sort of reference or putting too much thought into it (as Chris would have the luxury of neither, and describing voices isn't exactly something she does every day). The results were...terrifically vague!

I'm imagining "bought policeman" ranks pretty low in the corporate org chart of the Illuminati, probably not high enough to know who has superpowers out the wazoo and who doesn't. I imagine in terms of the possible surprises this could lead to, Chris' reaction was mild. Kirsten Geary seems to have had a much more extreme reaction when she was first "introduced to the Illuminati" via some out-of-hand necromancers—and she's only a badass normal! That being said, Chris' claim to be a "trained and deadly soldier of the Templars" is something of an exaggeration. Her "training" was a one-week crash course in How Not to Die With Magic Powers 101, and the only things she's actually killed (aside from crows) are zombies, who are technically already dead (so "re-dead?"..."re-deadly?"), but it gets the point across.

There is an important reference hidden in Dan's scene, but I don't want to give it away. I'm wondering if you'll be able to find it on your own. I have faith in you! As for the rest, it's safe to say that with her generally abusive leadership style and the fact that she's the reason Dan was transferred to "this fucked-up fieldwork shit," Kirsten Geary is not his most favorite person.

Thanks for reading!


	22. Appetite for Destruction

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Appetite for Destruction**_

_Saturday, November 4, 6:52am  
Sheriff's Office  
Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

I sleep on the couch that night, and sleep soundly—probably owning to physical and emotional exhaustion. Tranquility is something I definitely _don't_ feel.

In the morning, the sporadic _crack_ of gunfire from the roof wakes me. It takes me a bleary moment to remember I'm in the Sheriff's Office. Looking around, I find the Sheriff herself, walking among the sleeping survivors, gently rousing each of them while Andy hands out chipped ceramic mugs of steaming coffee. I sit up and start putting my shoes and glasses back on before the Sheriff reaches my part of the room. When Andy offers me a cup of coffee, I shake my head and whisper, "No thanks."

I finish tying my shoes and look up to see Moose and Dan entering. Both of them look a little tired, with slight bags under their eyes. Dan's stubble is now thick enough to visibly darken his cheeks, even from across the room. Behind him, the man whose coat I wear also comes in, clutching a rifle and looking nervous. He whispers something to the Sheriff and I notice the shooting on the roof has stopped. I try not to worry about that, but I check to make sure my shotgun and pistols are in easy reach anyway.

While the Sheriff's busy, Andy comes over and hands Dan and Moose a steaming mug each. Moose takes a long draw from his cup. "That's damn good coffee, Andy," he says, his voice loud in the early morning silence that still clings to the waking survivors. "You sure know how to make a man happy!"

Andy smiles and shrugs. "Why thanks, Sandy." He points to an off-white coffee machine in the corner of the room. "All I did was fill her with water and change the filter, but I appreciate it."

Moose takes another long drink. Andy stands silently in front of him. Everyone else in the room, it seems, already has a cup (or, in my case, has refused one). When Moose speaks again, he says, "The offer still stands, Andy. When this is all over, you're welcome to hop on the back of my bike and go explore the open road together."

Andy shifts nervously. "Ah, geez, thanks...I'm, uh, sure it'd be fun, but I couldn't leave this town or Sheriff Helen. It'd just feel wrong."

"Well, I respect that about you," says Moose. "You're a good man, and any woman would be lucky to have you."

"Well, uh, there hasn't been any...But that doesn't mean I, uh, I...," Andy stammers. Then he shakes his head and looks at the floor. "Aw, geez, I'm sorry."

Moose pats him on the arm. "Relax my friend. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he says.

Before anything further can be said, the Sheriff steps into the center of the room and holds up a hand for silence. "Alright everybody, simmer down," she says. "I got some good news and some bad news this morning," she says. "The good news is that last night our resident guardian angels found survivors at the church. The Reverend and Christopher Martin are both there and unharmed. Matter of fact, they're a heck of a lot better off than we are. They got canned food stockpiled from that charity drive, lots of space, and a defense that's way sturdier than our barricade here. We join them, we'll be a heck of a lot better off ourselves."

A murmur runs through the room and Moose smiles.

"The bad news," the Sheriff continues," is that we've really got no choice about it. We've _got_ to go! Food-wise, we've got maybe two or three days if we ration, but ammunitions' the real killer—no pun intended." She pauses and prompts, "Andy, how we doin'?"

"We, uh, well, we're better than we would have been, that's for sure," he says, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "I mean, I don't wanna sound ungrateful or anything, but..." He clears his throat. "Well, the last two days sure have been rough ammo-wise. We got about a magazine each for the M16's for Jackson, Dexter, and I. As far as sidearms, uh, that's not so good. I got about three rounds left in my Glock, and that seems, uh, about average."

"I've only got one bullet left," says the woman in the yoga pants.

"Yeah, we, uh, we don't have anything big enough for Tiffany's .45 left," says Andy. "But we got about, uh, fifty or sixty rounds left for the shotguns. It's all just, you know, birdshot, though."

"We might end up needin' even that," says Sheriff Bannerman. "The zombies outside are gettin' restless. Seems the one's who got back up yesterday weren't that badly hurt. They were the lucky ones. The one's gettin' up today are gonna represent the bulk of that big attack on Thursday, when the truck came in. Some of the ones from Friday'll be gettin' up too. We could be lookin' at upwards of twenty undead at once, supposing no new ones come around."

I get a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach thinking about these people, unarmed, against the undead of Kingsmouth. "We've got to get out of here as soon as possible!"

"Agreed," says the Sheriff. "So here's the plan. Dan and Chris, you'll cover Moose as he uses his mines to secure a path to the church. Andy, Jefferson, Dexter, you'll go up on the roof and try to keep the zombies offa the barricade. Make every shot count. As for the rest of us, we need to make sure everything's packed and ready to go the moment Moose gives us the all-clear. Got it?"

Everyone nods with grim determination.

"Good." The Sheriff gestures to a selection of packaged food on her desk. "Let's all eat up! Nobody fights or runs on an empty stomach. Not on my watch."

I wind up splitting a big box of Goldfish crackers with Tiffany, the girl in the dirt-stained yoga pants. The food leaves me a little thirsty, but it's the most filling thing I've eaten since I shared baked beans with Boone in what feels like almost another life.

As I finish, I catch Tiffany staring at me. "Doc said you came back from the dead the other night—and I saw you brought in, all cold and pale," she says at last. "Is it true, then? You can't die?"

"More or less," I say. "I can die, and it hurts, but I can come back. At least I did this time." I look up to find her still staring at me. I shift my feet and look down. "Believe me, it was as big a surprise to me as it was for you. Before all this happened, I was just an English Major studying in London."

"Me too, well, not in London," says Tiffany. "I studied English education, plus some HDFS coursework, at the state college. I came here to teach because if I worked for a rural community the state would forgive my student debt." A zombie's scream echoes through the streets and we both look up to the barricaded window. "I don't think there's anyone left to worry about that now," she says. "I almost wish I hadn't come here, but the kids were so wonderful! A little rowdy, but they were a gift really. They opened my eyes to so many things, and now..." Her voice trails off and she looks down. Silent tears run down her cheeks.

I feel tears welling up in my own eyes. So far I haven't seen any kids among the survivors. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

Tiffany shakes her head. "There's nothing you could have done," she says, and wipes her eyes. "I mean, even if you can come back from the dead, you've gotta have limits. Everybody does."

While that's certainly true, it doesn't make me feel any better about the tragedy on the island. "I'll find out what happened here, and who's responsible. I'll _make_ them pay!" I promise. My voice trembles a little. For a moment I can see Micah's gray-skinned, undead face staring up at me, as I did in my nightmare. My hands clench into fists automatically.

Tiffany sniffs and looks up at me. "Be careful," she says.

"You too," I say, patting her shoulder. Then I rise and head outside.

Dan and Moose are waiting for me by a shopping cart filled with all kinds of strange, jury-rigged devices. Some look like stacked together plates. There are quite a few pipes with wires sticking out of the ends. The only thing I recognize is the twelve pakc of mixed-brand beer bottles, each with a rag sprouting form the top. It's kind of hard _not_ to recognize a Molotov cocktail.

"It's a shame about the neighborhood," Moose is saying.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're gonna knock over a few white picket fences this morning," Dan says dryly, grinning. "Homeowner's association'll roll over in their fucking graves—supposing they're still in 'em."

Moose shakes his head, then turns to me. "Dan and I will set up these instruments of destruction we've been tinkerin with, but we'll need you to cover for us. Can we count on you?"

I nod, making sure my shotgun is in easy reach and drawing my pistols from their shoulder holsters. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

We head outside onto Arkham Avenue. It's slow going at first. There are so many grey-skinned bodies lying just outside the barricade that the cart can't get through. Dan and Moose drag the bodies to the sides of the road. I stand watch. Once I see a body Dan just dropped start to stir, its arms twitching. It moans. Dan reaches for his hammer. Before he can swing, I fire four shots—two from each pistol. The zombie goes limp again.

"Nice save," Dan says.

I nod and look away, trying not to think of the ugly mess my pistols made of the zombie's head. _It wasn't alive anyway, and it wasn't human...anymore_, I say to myself. I wish it had _looked_ less human.

Once the zombies corpses are cleared off the road, Moose and Dan start placing their devices along either shoulder, laying triplines and placing mines. I see several zombies standing idly in the distance, across a field, but they don't seem to see us. The work proceeds quickly, though I honestly don't understand a lot of what the men are doing. Demolitions was never exactly in my field.

We make it to Lovecraft Lane without any major incident, but once there I see five zombies gnawing on some bones under a tree. They're a few car-lengths down from the intersection, but one of them looks up at the sound of the shopping cart rattling across the asphalt. It stands and lets out a low growl. The others look up as well, forgetting the gnawed bones. I train my pistols on them just as they begin to charge.

I manged to take down down of them with quick volleys from my pistol. The others are getting too close. I tuck my pistols into the pockets of my coat and reach for my shotgun. Beside me, Dan grabs one of the Molotov cocktails from the cart. Before I can fire my shotgun, he lights the rag with a fireball that appears above his hand and pitches the bottle into the nearest zombie. The glass shatters and the flaming liquid splatters across all three zombies, stopping them in their tracks. The zombies scream and flail, trying to claw the flames off of themselves while they collapse to their knees. I grit my teeth at the sight and finish them with three quick shotgun blasts to the head.

"Nice throw," Moose remarks to Dan. "You've got a strong arm, and probably a mean right cross."

Dan grins. "Well, I've always kept in shape—it's good for impressions, good for trouble, and fucking _essential_ for this bad boy." He hefts his hammer. "Good work on the cocktails, Old Man! You really hit the spot on that stuff."

"You pick up a lot of things on the road, and I never close my eyes to any knowledge," says Moose. "You never know when something might come in handy—and life's too sacred to waste even one day nursing a black eye because of an unlearned lesson."

Dan chuckles. "You're a realy renaissance man, you know that? Mechanic, explosives expert, biker, philosopher." He holds out a fist for Moose. "Bump it!" Moose smiles and obliges, giving Dan a pat on the back for good measure.

I clear my throat.

"Nice shooting, Chris," Dan says, holding out his fist for me to _bump it_.

I ignore it. "You should get back to work before we have more zombies to deal with," I say.

"Right..._professional_." Dan shakes his head, but at least he gets to work helping Moose lay mines across the intersecting street, securing the path of the survivors.

Their work proceeds without further interruption. I see several more zombies, but they seem to ignore us mostly. Those that do notice us simply stand, swaying, and stare. I'm reminded of the fact that the Draug are still out there and still capable of controlling Kingsmouth's undead hoards. I wonder if they're watching our progress through the zombie's eyes. I wish I knew what they were planning. I have a sick feeling I'll be finding out all too soon.

When we reach the church, Kaiyo comes out to meet us, looking a little worse for wear. Her short black hair is ruffled and her already-red eyes are bloodshot. Her skin looks a shade paler than usual, and she stumbles a little on the stairs—probably because her eyelids are only half open. She yawns, showing pointed fangs, and waves languidly toward us.

"Namaste," Moose says, giving the girl a slight bow. "Looks like you've had quite the night, friend!"

Kaiyo nods sleepily and sweeps a hand to the church. "I was working on the w-w-_yaw_-wards," she says, yawning again. "They've got an incredible power source. When I tried to extend them, it took sixth level glyphs just to handle the equilibrium _anima_-load...and those burned out on the first discharge. I'm guessing it'd take seventh or eighth level glyphs to extend the ward over even the short term, and I can't make those. At least not yet."

"But the original ward still works, right?" Dan asks. "You didn't fuck it up?"

"Hmm? Wha? Oh, yeah," says Kaiyo. "Every zombie in New England could try to march through that door, and it'd fry 'em all and still have enough charge to last another couple centuries."

"I've never seen you this tired," I say. "I didn't think an all-nighter would affect you like this."

Kaiyo nods. "Yeah, staying awake all day yesterday was kinda hard, but really it's the wards. I expended a bunch of _anima_ last night inscribing all four pairs of sixth level glyphs, fighting the occasional spectre or giant zombie who didn't like what I was doing..." She shrugs. "I probably took a few years of my life," she says casually.

"A few _years_ off your _life_?" I repeat, alarmed.

Kaiyo waves away my concern. "I'll still probably live well into the 23rd century," she says and grins. "Comes with the pointy fangs."

"You still probably better lie down, little monster," says Dan.

Just then staccato bursts of gunfire erupt from the Sheriff's Office down the street. There's no way the Sheriff would allow such an expenditure of ammunition unless things were getting truly desperate. "We gotta move!" Moose says.

Kaiyo's face lights as she tries to straighten, but she's clearly still exhausted. "Stay here," I tell her.

"Aw, but...but..._violence_!" she whines.

"Don't sweat it," says Dan. "I'm pretty fucking certain we'll be bringing the party to you."

The last thing I hear as we jog away toward the Sheriff's Office is Kaiyo saying, "I _love_ parties, especially with bloodshed."

"Remind me never to go to any party Kaiyo throws," I say.

Moose shrugs, pushing the cart along in front of him with seemingly no effort. "I've seen stranger in my time. A man learns not to judge what he doesn't understand."

"Yeah, good thing there's not a shitton to understand about fucking zombies," says Dan.

When we reach the Sheriff's Office, I can see Andy, Jackson, and Dexter on the roof with police issue M16, firing volley after volley down at zombies on the far side of the building. Suddenly, Jackson's gun stops firing mid-volley, followed shortly by Dexter's. Jackson checks his weapon. "I'm out!"

"Me too!" says Dexter.

By this point Andy's rifle has also stopped. He lets it hand from his shoulder strap while he draws his sidearm. "Y-you two get downstairs! We may need to evacuate early."

Before they can obey, Moose shouts, "Hey up there! Open the gate, and let's hit the road!"

Andy nods to Dexter and the old hunter hurries down the wooden stairs while Jackson and Andy try to pick off targets with their pistols. Moments later, the gate opens. I can see the Sheriff already coming out of the office door's toward the gate. "Is the way to the church safe?"

"We wouldn't fucking be here if it wasn't!" say Dan.

Bannerman ignores his rudeness and waves to the people inside. "Alright everybody, this is it! Grab your things and go!"

Survivors start streaming past us. Across the compound I can see gray fingers clawing their way through the chainlink fence and the debris that support it. The whole barricade visibly shakes under the weight of the zombies on the other side. Bannerman draws her pistol and fires a couple shots through the gaps in the barricade. Then the slide of her pistol locks back, empty. She turns to the roof. "Andy, how we lookin' up there?"

Andy is taking time with his shots, trying to make every bullet count, but he pauses to answer. "We, uh, we got about forty of 'em tryin' to break through, I reckon!"

"Fuck me!" says Dan.

"We can handle 'em if we stand united," says Moose. "Dan, you take point with the survivors! Make sure the zombies don't blaze a whole through our perimeter. Chris and I'll cover the rear."

Dan nods and rushes off down the road, waving for the survivors to follow. Once they're all out of the compound—followed closely by the Sheriff—Moose shouts to the roof, "Andy! You and Jackson get down here! Time to roll out!"

Andy fires the last round from his pistol, then rushes down the stairs, close on Jackson's heels. "We'd—uh—we'd better get the shotguns," he says as he approaches us. "That way we can at least help keep the walking dead off our backs, right?"

"We've got it, Andy, go on!" Moose says, slapping the deputy on the back. "Don't worry about us. I've no intention of visiting that infinite darkness just yet. I still have a road trip to take you on when this is finished!" He smiles, then looks at me, then at Andy's empty M16. "Why don't you give Chris here your rifle? She'll make better use of an empty gun than any of us can."

"Good thinking," says Andy. He hands the gun to me.

I wonder how many people know now that I can fire guns without real bullets, but Andy and Jackson run off after the Sheriff before I can ask. I weigh the M16 in my hands. It's longer than my AK47 was, but it feels a little lighter. I wonder if it can really work as a replacement for my lost weapon. There doesn't seem to be anything special about the weapons the Templars gave me, but that doesn't mean there isn't some hidden property that allows me to use them the way I do. But now's not the time to wonder about that. Now I can only try! I cock the rifle, concentrate my _anima_, and aim it at a zombie that's clawed its way halfway through a hole in the barricade. I pull the trigger. A three round burst slams into the zombie's head, stilling it.

I smile in grim satisfaction and set to work gunning the other zombies down as they break through, while Moose does something with the gate behind me. Whatever it is, I hope it's quick. The opposite gate is tottering now, and there are numerous holes in the barricade beside it. While all of these holes are small enough that the corpses of the zombies themselves block them if I kill them fast enough, they won't stay that way for long. Lifeless gray fingers are clawing at the edges of every hole, widening them steadily. I won't be able to keep up for more than a couple minutes.

Suddenly, a Molotov cocktail sails past me, busting against the barricade and showering it and the zombies struggling through it with flaming liquid. I hear them scream, but they don't stop attacking the barricade. Behind me, Moose lights another bottle. "Come on! This won't stop them for long!" he says. He grabs my shoulder and hauls me back out onto the street before throwing the bottle in this hand. Then he kneels to pull a tripwire taut across the gateway. I cover him with a couple bursts at zombies that have already broken through the other side—they're on fire, and definitely hurting, but that doesn't seem to be stopping them. At least not yet.

As soon as Moose is done, he grabs the car and sprints down the street. "Stay close! You won't want to be near that gate when it blows!" he shouts to me. I follow hard on his heels. We're only halfway back to the rest of the group when I hear a loud blast. I glance over my shoulder and see the barricade on our side severely damaged. Pieces of plywood rain down almost twenty feet away. Inside what's left of the barricade, however, every zombie who'd been attacking the Sheriff's Office lies torn apart and ablaze. They won't be a threat anymore, at least, not today.

Just then, there's a scream in front of us, followed by a single gunshot. There are several cries of alarm, all coming from the head of the group, which has just reached Lovecraft Lane. Then I hear more gunshots and zombie screams.

"Make a hole!" shouts Moose, shoving the cart forward. The survivors part, and I see that one of them is down. It's Tiffany, clutching her side. Dan is standing over her, swinging his hammer, felling zombies as fast as they can crawl out of the manhole in front of him.

But I see one zombie on the ground stirring. It's back is broken, but its upper body is still able to move. It crawls toward Tiffany, jaws opening. She smashes it in the face repeatedly with the butt of her large revolver. It hisses, recoils, then lunges forward again. But by this time, I've raised my rifle and concentrated my _anima_ for a precision shot. The shot explodes inside the zombie, killing it, while the wash of _anima_ that results hopefully helps Tiffany.

Before I can find out, Moose arrives at the manhole, flanked by Andy and Jackson with shotguns. The volley from their guns does surprisingly little damage, but in combination with Dan it's enough to drive the zombies back. By the time I run up, Dan's knocked the one of them back into the open manhole. It screams below us as it's limbs tangle with those of other zombies, frustrating their ability to climb the ladder to the surface. The fight is far from over, though.

"Fucking sewer's full of the motherfuckers," Dan mutters, listening to the screams of dozens of zombies below.

I ignore them for a moment and kneel next to Tiffany. Her shirt is torn and there are obviously still some cuts underneath, but I don't think they're too deep. "Are you okay?" I ask.

She grimaces, but nods. "The bastard who jumped me used to be the principle...Made my life hell...Guess he wasn't done yet." She chuckles, but cuts off in a gasp of pain. "At least...at least I got even this time. Put my last round through his brain..."

"Looks like he got you pretty good himself," says the Doctor, kneeling to examine her wound. "It's already partially healed and not too deep, but you'll still need bandages, anticeptic, and lots of rest."

"Can she move?" asks the Sheriff.

"Wouldn't recommend it, but under the circumstances..."

I get to me feet and go over to the manhole. A tangle of pale limbs is visible below, writhing as the zombies try to climb past each other. Dan stands over them. "Fuckers went right under our perimeter," he says.

"Sounds like the Draug," I say.

"Then I've got a surprise for 'em," says Moose. He hefts a barrel out of the bottom of the cart, opens a vent at the top, and tips it over the open manhole. A thick, viscous fluid glugs out. It looks like orange syrup, but smells like gasoline. Judging from the strangled cries below, the zombies don't like it—but it also doesn't slow them down.

"They're still coming up!" I warn.

"Trust me, they'll be experiencing a _flaming_ desire to be elsewhere in a second," says Moose, upending the barrel, then tossing the empty container aside. "Anybody got a light?"

"I do," Dan and I say simultaneously. Then, Dan grins at me. "Ladies first," he says.

"You'll want to stand back for this," Moose warns everyone.

We all back away. I let my rifle hang by its shoulder strap and draw my shotgun. I aim it at the mouth of the manhole, concentrating my _anima_ into a single fireball. I pull the trigger. A column of orange flame immediately erupts from the manhole, followed by smoke and flame spurting from around every manhole cover on Lovecraft lane, from the top of the hill to the bottom. The zombie screams in the sewer intensify momentarily, then fade and cut off after a few seconds. An oily black smoke billows out of the hole, but that's all.

Dan grins. "Kickass napalm!"

"It should hold 'em off for a while, long enough for us to get to the church," Moose says.

I turn back to Tiffany, who's being helped back to her feet by the Doctor and the Sheriff. "Can you walk?"

Tiffany nods grimly. She still gripping her empty revolver in one hand. She may be injured, but it's going to take more than one bite wound to take her down...and _that_ is something I'm immensely grateful for. Especially considering that I don't see any zombies around right now for me to leech health off of. I guess I should have thought of that _before_ Moose used his napalm.

We continue on to Main Street, across from the church. Kaiyo is standing there, waiting for us. She's looking more like her usual self than she was earlier this morning, certainly more cheerful. But suddenly she grips her razor pendant and backs away, toward the church, while facing the middle of the intersection. I see another manhole cover there, and suddenly I realize what's about to happen. "They're coming through the sewer over here!" Kaiyo warns. "Sounds like almost a hundred of them!"

"Fuck!" says Dan. He waves to the survivors. "Come on! Everybody inside the church, _now!_"

"My patient _can't_ be rushed!" the Doctor insists, moving as quickly as he can with Tiffany between himself and the Sheriff.

"Then _your patient_ is gonna be fucking zombie food!" Dan says.

But that's not acceptable to me. _Whatever happens today, I want Tiffany and the others to survive!_ I turn to Moose. "Do you have any more napalm?"

The biker-turned-demolitions-man shakes his head. "I only had enough to make the one batch—but I've got something better!" He points to one of the last items in his cart, a massive bag labeled _Kitty Litter_ that now obviously contains something more potent. It's rigged to a detonator via a set of wires and an egg timer.

"Shit, man! That's gotta be almost thirty pounds of explosives!" says Dan. "That'll collapse the fucking sewer!"

"Exactly!" says Moose. "Get it down there ahead of them, and we'll stop the walking dead in their tracks." He looks Dan square in the eye. "Think you can do it?"

Dan nods slowly and gently sets his hammer down beside the cart. "Give me a minute," he says, leaning down to retrieve the giant bomb.

Moose flips a switch among the detonator's wires and gives the egg timer a little twist. "You've got three, one to get down, one to position the IED, and another to get out." The timer starts ticking down immediately. Moose slaps Dan on the back. "Go!"

Dan hefts the bomb and starts staggering toward the manhole. Kaiyo steps forward. "You can't go down there alone! There are too many of the them, and they're too close!" She then pushes aside the manhole cover one-handed and begins to descend ahead of Dan. "Come on, Chris!" she shouts to me before her head vanishes beneath the lip of the manhole. "We need Team KCD on this!"

I nod and quickly follow her, slipping in ahead of Dan. I can't say that I've ever _wanted_ to crawl around inside a sewer, much less a sewer full of zombies, but with the survivors' lives at stake there's no way I'm going to stand idly by while Dan and Kaiyo do all the work. As I descend the ladder, I can already hear the zombies splashing through the water toward us. There are so many of them that their footsteps blend together into a continuous roar, interrupted only by the crackling discharge of Kaiyo's lightning spells and the screams of downed zombies. I turn as soon as my foot touches the bottom. I'm momentarily taken aback by what I see. The concrete tunnels are actually pretty spacious, with more than enough room to stand up fully and sidewalks on either side of the alge-covered shallow stream. Electric lights mounted on the walls provide adequate, if not bright, illumination. And while the air is stale, it definitely doesn't smell like sewage.

The sound of Dan stepping off the ladder behind me is enough to remind me I have more important things to be worried about, starting with the zombies I can hear coming down the long tunnel that leads to this squarish entry chamber. I run over to where Kaiyo is making her stand, throwing lightning spells down the tunnel. The group of zombies rushing toward her completely fills the tunnel's width and I can't see beyond them. They're only about 20 yards away!

I sweep the tunnel with automatic fire, then reach up and fire several _anima_ grenades from the underslung launcher, adding my fire to Kaiyo's lightning. Our viscous attacks cut down a score of zombies, but more take their place. Behind them I can make out blue-skinned figures with club-like arms. _Draug!_

"The bomb's set!" Dan shouts from behind us. "We got 90 seconds to get the hell out!"

Kaiyo—who's been handling the onrushing zombie hoard with only a _slightly_ tense smile—suddenly jumps, squeals, and runs for the exit faster than I've ever seen her move before. She's halfway up the ladder before I can even _think_ of moving.

Dan and I stare at each other for a second. "Ladies first," he says.

"Don't be an idiot!" I say, turning back to deliver another sweep of automatic fire to the zombies. They're getting too close. I start backing away through the entry chamber. "You're unarmed, and you can die. Get out of here!"

"If you think I'm just gonna leave you, you're fucking—"

I cut him off, shoving him back while I go for my shotgun. "I have no intention of dying again! It hurt, _a lot!_ Just go!" I fire a wave of flame at the ground in front of the zombies as they round the corner to the chamber where we are. Unfortunately, most of the flame fizzles on the surface of the water and the rest doesn't slow the zombies down very much. I swear under my breath without thinking. I push against Dan's back with my own, firing my shotgun as fast as I can work the pump until I finally bump into the ladder.

Dan reaches down to pull me up. This is no time to be choosy about help. I take his hand and let him haul me up the first few rungs. After that we climb as fast as we can. Behind us I can hear the zombies clamoring up, fighting each other for a spot on the ladder, while in my head the countdown registers ten seconds to zero.

Just then, two pairs of strong arms reach down from the street. Moose hauls Dan bodily out of the manhole, then Andy does the same for me. My foot has no sooner cleared the top of the hole than Kaiyo kicks the cover back into place. She then immediately runs for the church, reaching it in half a second. The rest of us are too far away to follow.

"Time's up!" Moose shouts, releasing Dan. "Everybody hit the deck! It's about to blow!"

Everyone dives away from the manhole. I skin two knuckles on the pavement, but they're quickly forgotten in the deafening roar from behind me, accompanied by a vibration from the roadbed that I feel in my bones. Seconds later, the manhole cover, now smoldering, lands with a _thud_ three inches from my face. I flinch, roll, and backpeddle away from it on all fours instictively.

Then it's over. The sound of the explosion fades, leaving my ears ringing. I look around to find all eight survivors accounted for. The Sheriff and the Doctor are even helping Tiffany to her feet already. I see Dan standing up too, brushing himself off and swearing with a look of boyish glee on his face. Fortunately, I can't really hear him over the ringing in my ears.

I push myself to my feet and pick up my shotgun. It takes me a moment to find my bearings. When I do, I head straight for the manhole. It seems normal for the first couple of feet, but below that there's nothing but rubble.

Dan steps up beside me to take a look for himself. "Holy shit!" he shouts loud enough for me to hear. "Hell of a way to block a storm sewer!"

"All in a day's work on the road," says Moose. He, Andy, and Jackson start organizing the survivors and getting them inside with their belongings. Reverend Hawthorne comes out to greet them. I stay where I am, keeping an eye out for zombies and letting my ears recover.

When they do, I find Dan beside me again. He's retrieved his hammer, and now he's grinning at me. "Did my ears deceive me down there, or did you cuss in that sewer?"

I'm tempted to lie about it, but instead I roll my eyes and try to dismiss it. "I just said the _d_-word," I say.

"You mean _damn_?"

My cheeks color and I glare at him. "It was a very stressful situation, and it was warranted," I argue. "Besides, that one's even in the Bible." Though technically that's only true if you count _damned_, short for _condemned_, and only then in the old KJV. I shift my feet, thinking of what my father would have to say to my poor excuses.

Dan, however, seems proud of me. He pats me on the back. "It's a start, babe! I'll teach you to swear like a fucking sailor yet!"

I brush his hand away. "Good luck with that," I say with cold sarcasm, then remind him, "Strictly professional."

He chuckles. "How could I forget?" But at least he moves off after that, going to help Moose move the cart with its remaining explosives up the stairs and into the church.

Reverend Hawthorne steps out of their way and comes down to me. He holds a bulky silver and black revolver in both hands, pointed at the ground, though he seems distinctly uncomfortable with it, as if it were some heavy, venomous snake. He surveys the area and shakes his head. "Sad to see the town reduced to such a state," he says. "Kingsmouth is a precious place: every stone has a story to tell, every page should be cherished. It is a book of secrets, an Illuminated manuscript, waiting for those of us who can read between the lines."

I look around myself, at the battered houses, the bodies in the streets, the debris from our explosion scattered around, and the bleak black smoke rising from the sewers of Lovecraft Lane, and the burning barricades at the Sheriff's Office beyond. It's impossible for me to imagine this town will ever be normal again...and we _still_ haven't gotten to the bottom of it. We've only scratched the surface of what's happening here. I know there has to be more to it than the Draug.

"I've seen it spelled out," Hawthorne is saying, "the hidden truths of this...this blighted Garden of Eden." He looks at me. "For are we not both seekers of knowledge, you and I?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's no secret who you must be associated with if you've come in from the outside. Only those with Illuminated knowledge of the world's great secrets could know of paths to reach us when the Fog cuts off even internet access," says Hawthorne. "I know what you are!"

For a moment, I'm alarmed, thinking he's somehow discovered my Templar allegiance. Then, I catch the _Illuminated_ reference, and realize he thinks I'm with someone else entirely. At that, I'm confused.

"Oh, there's no need for us to play games of misdirection," says Hawthorne. "We are more alike than perhaps you could imagine. Even a man of God can have his eyes opened to further enlightenment and Illumination."

I regard him silently, wondering just how far he's going to take this.

"To be enlightened...under the Eye?" He clears his throat. "The Pyramid?"

"Are you trying to say something?" I say, crossing my arms.

He steps uncomfortably close and whispers, "The Illuminati! I'm with the Illuminati!"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Really? I don't recognize you," I say flatly.

"Well, I don't have a badge or anything like that," says Hawthorne.

I make a mental note to ask Dan if he has a badge.

"I'm what you might call a, uh, a _hobbyist_ member," he says. "But I _earned_ it. I did extensive research on the net. The code words I found led me to forums, secret forums—forums that don't show up on Google—and I'm an avid poster. A _valued_ poster." He says it all with so much pride it's almost comical.

I manage to stop myself from smirking, though. I'm interested to see if Hawthorne will volunteer any other information, now that he's mistakenly concluded that I'm an Illuminati agent. "Do you have anything _valuable_ to contribute now?"

Hawthorne nods. "I know there are paths in Kingsmouth not on any map." He kneels down to pick up the manhole cover. He strains to lift it with both hands, then clears his throat. "Um, if I may beg your assistance?"

I'm not sure what he's planning on doing with the manhole cover, but there are no zombies in sight and I want to keep him talking, so I play along. The cover is still warm to the touch, and much heavier than I expected, especially after seeing Kaiyo shove and kick it around with such ease. We manage the weight together, though, hefting it over to the collapsed manhole and lowering it back into place.

Once it's down, Hawthorne takes great care in turning it _just so_ and, once he has it seated, brushes off the lettering and symbols. "The work of the Illuminati is everywhere," he says, stroking the letters. "A secret gospel, chapter and verse, throughout the town: signs and formulae." He looks back up at me. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Well, I didn't come for the tourism," I say dryly, letting him make of that answer what he will.

"Of course, of course," says Hawthorne. "Now, my work is not...exhaustive. There are elements of their—of _our_ grand plan I may have overlooked. Tiny, tiny details still left unexplored."

"Such as?"

He shakes his head. "As you know, among the Illuminated, there is no tutor of enlightenment as great as experience." He pats the manhole cover, then rises. "I trust we have each other's disclosure," he says cryptically, then rises and walks back to the church.

I look at the manhole cover. The design is of a triangle dominated by an eye. _The Eye and the Pyramid_. An Illuminati symbol, I take it. Surrounding it and stamped into the metal are the words _Lux omnia vincit_. I recognize the phrase as something Latin. Though I've never learned the language, I've picked up bits and pieces from English etymology. _Lux_ is Latin for _light_, and _omni_ means _all_. I'm not sure about the rest, but combined with Hawthorne's cryptic speech and the way he took care to arrange the manhole cover, the design must be an important indicator to some Illuminati secret buried here in Kingsmouth, something even Hawthorne doesn't know. Maybe not even Dan. I set my jaw. Whatever that secret is, I'm going to uncover it—and I won't say a word to Dan about it!

With that determination, I head inside before the others start to wonder what's keeping me.

* * *

**Author's Note: ** Happy Halloween! I wanted to get this posted yesterday, but I didn't have the time to finish it. Here it is, though! Still in time for the spirit, I trust.

I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I'm writing an original fantasy book. Well, more like I have written it and I'm going through the process of final revision so I can put it up on the Kindle and Amazon store in ebook and print form. The ebook will be free, so hopefully in a few months you can look forward to having some nice epic fantasy from me, if that's what you enjoy. The bad news is that in order to finish this project, I need to put everything else I'm doing on hold, including this story. Now this does not mean I'll stop writing it! I've already got about a third of the next chapter written in a little memo pad I take with me everywhere for use during breaks. It does mean I won't be updating it for a while, though, as all of my typing time needs to go toward getting this book out of the way. Once that's finished, then I can resume posting here.

Thanks for all your support! I'm very, very grateful for it, and I hope you'll be willing to wait for me to finish this book so I can return here soon. I'm glad to hear you liked Chris intimidating the corrupt cop in last chapter. MaddKossack115: While Micah and Chris did discuss what would happen if Micah told their dad, she never directly told him not to. Maybe she should have, and then should mentally chide Micah for not listening to her in 21. Honestly, though, there's a lot of her Dad in Chris: she's very used to seeing the police as good guys, even if she knows them to be unreliable (she didn't suspect the cops would be directly corrupt until most of the way through talking with Cole). While she would know that the cops would be useless and the smart thing to do would be not to tell them or her Dad at all, I'm not sure that it would occur to her to ask Micah to completely cover it up.

Now for this chapter! How excited are you that Friday is finally over? I'm very excited for this small-but-important time jump.

As I think I've mentioned before, this chapter, while loosely based on the "Appetite for Destruction" mission in the game (featuring use of the makeshift mines, Molotov cocktails, napalm, and IEDs from the mission), has some fairly large departures from the game, story wise. In the game, the survivors never leave the Sheriff's Office and there really is no need to, since they fight the zombies using the same unlimited-ammo attacks the player uses (only theirs are more powerful than most starting players). However, in the story I saw no reason why the survivors wouldn't jump at the chance of a new and more secure home, especially since their ammunition really is limited.

The exchange between Moose and Andy over coffee is from their dialogue at the beginning of "The Uncertainty Principle" mission. Moose's real name is Sandy Jansen, but it's cut off short.

Birdshot is still dangerous and can cause massive soft tissue damage, but generally lacks the ability to penetrate bone, based on some of the things I've read on firearms forums. It would not make a very suitable zombie defense weapon. As for where they got that much birdshot, my explanation is that they were the shells Chris retrieved from the gas station roof. It never got used due to its ineffectiveness and the fact that none of the survivors have really gotten _that_ close to a zombie in the last two days.

While Tiffany's appearance is based on that of one of the survivors in the game, her character is original. In the game, the female survivor armed with pistols does not have a name. I decided to give her one, since she kept coming up. HDFS stands for Human Development and Family Studies, which is an umbrella title for academic study focused on training people to interact with children as teachers or social workers or the like. It may go by different titles in different places, but that's what my college called it. Many programs exist for forgiving student debt in exchange for teaching in a disadvantaged (usually urban) community, though I'm not sure if Maine has any.

Unless one counts Danny, Carter, and later Kyra (at Red's Bait and Tackle), no children appear to have survived on Solomon Island. No zombie children are in evidence, either, though, unless you count the Turner's in the Blue Mountain Zone mission "Last Will and Testament." The models for these zombies, however, are redresses of other zombies found throughout the Solomon Island zone and do not appear to be children.

The brief exchange between Dan and Moose before leaving is a reference to Moose's cutscene dialogue at the beginning of the "Appetite for Destruction" mission. I originally worked much more of this dialogue in, in one form or another, but when I went to type it up realized it was out of character for these people to ramble on for so long in the midst of a crisis, and that the dialogue really wasn't doing anything but slowing the story down, so I cut it. Maybe I'll be able to work Moose's lines in somewhere else later.

Kaiyo's dialogue is a reference to the mission "A Sacred Place" which has the player recreating and expanding the wards on the church, fighting spectres and one giant zombie in the process. The wards succeed in killing every zombie inside the church's fence, but immediately fail thereafter, with the given reason that these things require more study and experience than the player has...though in practice it also serves the MMO Necessary Weasel trope that the Status Quo is God. ...And now you'll be distracted for a while looking that up on TV :)

I was going to hold off on giving Chris a replacement assault rifle, but seeing how action-heavy the next two chapters are going to be, and the fact that the survivors were about to have a surplus of empty guns lying around, I couldn't see a reason _not_ to give her one. The M16 is one of the first upgrade assault rifles you can get in the game. In real life it is longer and slightly heavier than the AK47, but my guess (having never held either weapon) is that the extra length would distribute the weight a little more evenly, making the overall weapon _seem_ lighter. All the assault rifles in the game have an under-barrel grenade launcher in order to visually facilitate grenade-based abilities, and the M16 is no exception. What a police-issue M16 would be doing with a grenade launcher is beyond me. Perhaps it was for tear gas? Though why anyone would need that much heavy weaponry in pre-apocalypse Solomon Island...? No idea, but I needed a grenade launcher!

With regards to the sewers, really there is no reason for evidently-modern sewage systems like the one in Kingsmouth (the walls are concrete, so we know this isn't an ancient structure, like the Illuminati tunnels shown in "Digging Deeper") to be so huge. Normal modern sewer systems consist of pipes too narrow to be crawled through even while empty. However a _storm_ sewer, designed to redirect rainwater and prevent flooding, can often be quite large, so I decided to put that forward as my official explanation why the sewers in Kingsmouth are big enough to go adventuring in. Concerning the manhole cover, real manhole covers weigh over 100 lbs to discourage people from removing them and also to help trap noxious fumes and prevent leaks. That Kaiyo was able to throw one around with ease is a testament to her vampire heritage, and also a really good reason not to arm wrestle her or engage her in melee.

Hawthorne's dialogue is from the cutscene introducing "The Kingsmouth Code." I always think its so funny that he outs himself and brings into his confidence so many "fellow Illuminati" who are most likely either Dragon players or Templars. No wonder the Illuminati won't give him anything like actually valuable information!

Etymology is the study of word origins.

Thanks again for your support! I look forward to the day when I can return with fresh chapters for you all!


	23. Draugnet

**Disclaimer**: The Secret World and all associated characters, settings, and situations are the property of Funcom and Electronic Arts. All use of them here is purely for entertainment purposes, without permission or intention to profit.

* * *

_**Draugnet**_

_Saturday, November 4, 10:12am  
Kingsmouth Congregational Church  
Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine_

* * *

Inside the church, the survivors are settling in. The Doctor is bandaging Tiffany's wound while she lies on a pew in the front row. Off to one side, the Sheriff is talking to Hawthorne, who's showing her a closet in the back—well stocked with non-perishable goods. "The donations from the October food drive should keep us all well-fed for a while," he's saying.

"Good thing folks is generous," the Sheriff remarks.

_It brings a very literal sense to the verse "Give and ye shall receive,"_ I muse.

Dan and Kaiyo stand in the opposite corner, away from everyone else. Both of them look ready for action and Kaiyo waves me over when she sees me enter. As I approach, she says to Dan, "Thanks for bringing the party to me!"

"My pleasure, little monster," Dan answers, "but that was just the fucking appetizer. There's a shit-ton more to come when we go down to the beach and see what the motherfucking Draug are up to—and fuck it up for 'em, of course!" He looks at Kaiyo and me. "What'd you say, babes?"

Kaiyo jumps up and down excitedly. "An entrée of violence with a side of sea monsters! I can't wait!"

My response is much less enthusiastic, but still positive. "The survivors will be safe here. It's time we found out what the Draug are doing on this island, and put a stop to it!" I'm eager to see justice served for the people of Kingsmouth, and to finally get to go home—or at least back to London.

We head outside and down the steps to the street. All is quiet. Repelling this morning's attacks on the traveling survivors seems to have subdued the undead for now. The Draug are sure to be active by the beach though, guarding their foul eggs—unless they've already hatched! I shudder at that thought.

The quickest way to the beach is straight down Main Street. Dan takes the lead with Kaiyo skipping along beside him. I lag behind a bit, eyes on our surroundings looking for threats, and I pretend that's all I'm interested in. I sneak a second glance at the manhole cover Hawthorne so carefully replaced. This time I notice that the tip of the pyramid on the design points straight down Main Street. A half dozen yards further on there's another manhole—slightly ajar from the blast—with an identical design which also points down the street. I pass four more manholes with the same design and orientation, each one pointing exactly toward the next, all the way down Main Street. At the end of Main Street, the last manhole cover points across Belmont Avenue to the concrete pier. A pair of Draug warriors with club-like arms stand at the near end of the pier, guarding it. Beyond them I can see two more manhole covers, set into the concrete.

Whatever secret the manhole covers hint at, I'll have to get past the Draug to find it.

Dan and Kaiyo stop in front of me, across the street from the pier, and examine the beach. In addition to the two Draug on the pier, there are also Draug grouped in twos or threes all along the curve of the bay, as far as we can see. Each cluster of Draug guards five or six of the bloated, spine-topped pods. Overall, it looks a lot like the situation we saw from the seawall yesterday, except that there are a lot more Draug. Judging from what I can see of the beach and the number of Draug dotting it, I'm thinking there must be over a hundred—maybe even _two_ hundred—pods on the beach with a corresponding number of Draug guarding them. Thankfully, all of the Draug seem to be the club-armed soldiers rather than the towering behemoth we fought at the gas station. All of the pods, similarly, are merely man-sized: far too small for such a monstrosity. Still, from the numbers alone I find myself very much in agreement with Dan's first observation.

"Fuck me," he says. "That's a shit-ton of Draug."

"I know! Isn't it great?!" Kaiyo visibly trembles with excitement. "Look at all those pods! They must be breeding! I mean, _seriously_ breeding…like breeding-an-army breeding!"

"Emphasis on the _army_," I say. "It certainly doesn't look like they came here just to breed." And the last thing the survivors need is an army of intelligent hostile Draug on their doorstep, even if the church's wards could keep them out.

"There's probably more than simple reproduction to it, true," Kaiyo says, "but it's impossible to say for sure. No one's ever actually _seen_ Draug reproduction and lived to tell about it. That it happens at all has been mostly conjecture. But now we can be the first to witness and document the whole process!" She stamps her feet and grins. "This is so awesome, guys!"

"We can document it alright," says Dan, gripping his hammer, "so long as we teach these motherfuckers to file it under _shit not to do on one of our islands_."

I nod and shoulder my rifle. Personally, I'm more concerned with beating Kaiyo's _and lived to tell about it_ qualifier than recording Draug mating calls or teaching them a lesson. "Let's cut a path to the beach," I say.

We advance together, with Dan on point. I focus my _anima_ on a headshot, taking down one of the two Draug on the pier. The other one immediately charges. Kaiyo pitches a fireball into its chest. It doesn't go down, but while it's still reeling from her attack, Dan hits it with a wind-up sledgehammer blow to the head. There's a sickening crack as the head flies off into the bay, then the body falls to the pavement, dribbling blue blood.

Now the path is clear to the pier, and to a cluster of eggs on the beach beside it. A concrete ramp just to the right of where the Draug stood provides access. "Alright, we need to move quick," says Dan, eyeing the Draug along the beach—who are, one and all, looking at us. "Kaiyo, grab whatever fucking samples you need from the fucking pods while Chris and I keep an eye out!"

Kaiyo dashes down to the pods while Dan and I stand facing away from each other, slowly circling on the pier, watching the Draug. Fortunately, the other Draug are too fixated on guarding their own pods to attack us.

I let my eyes linger on the pier itself. I can see the designs on the manhole covers now. Both seem to point to an equipment shed down at the end of the pier. It seems ordinary from here. I wonder what secrets the Illuminati could have hidden there.

Suddenly, Dan shouts, "Kaiyo! Look out! Motherfucker in the surf comin' right at you! Chris! Take it out!"

I chide myself for getting distracted and raise my rifle. It doesn't take me long to spot the threat: it's neither stealthy nor quick. It's also unlike anything I've ever seen on the island. Its body is clearly that of a zombie—with a water-soaked blond mullet and gray skin accented by the tattered remains of an orange sweater and blue jeans—, but its shape is so _distorted_. It has a huge abdominal bulge—an unnatural pregnancy—distorting its otherwise-male body. Bluish-purple spines, like the tips of crab-claws, protrude straight up from the top of the bulging belly and through the zombie's sweater. They waver slowly from side to side as the zombie plods toward the shore. It seems oblivious to us, and to Kaiyo on the beach. I take aim with my rifle, but don't fire, not yet. Kaiyo and Dan hesitate as well.

Moments later, the pregnant zombie's feet touch the beach. As soon as they do, they begin to send up tendrils of thick, black mist. It screams, collapsing to its knees. The black mist envelopes it completely, concealing it from our view. When it clears a few seconds later, the zombie is gone. In its place a fresh new Draug pod sits on the beach.

"Well, that was fucking creepy," says Dan.

"I was wondering how they got all these pods on the beach so quickly," says Kaiyo, circling the new pod and poking its leathery sides. "I guess they make the local zombies do all the heavy lifting."

"Yes, but where do the pods come from, and how do we stop them?" I ask, eager to get this over with.

Kaiyo shrugs. "No idea, but judging from the fluid sample on the first one and the overall consistency in appearance, I'd say most of them will be ready to hatch in three to five days."

There's a loud sound in the background, like a foghorn somewhere out in the bay, but I ignore it. "That's not much time to prepare for an invasion," I say.

"Shut up," says Dan.

I glare at him. "Excuse me?!"

"Shut up," he says, holding up a hand and staring back the way we came. "Listen."

We fall silent. I hear a moaning in the background, slowly building in volume. I look around and see gray-skinned figures pouring onto Belmont Avenue from the intersections with Elm Street, Lovecraft Lane, and Angell Street. Within minutes we have a hoard of over a hundred zombies closing in on us from the island, cutting off the street and the beach to our left and right.

"We need to get back to the church!" I point my rifle up Main Street. "If we can cut our way through now—"

"Too late!" says Kaiyo. Zombies start pouring out of the alleys and onto Main Street by the dozens, cutting off our retreat.

We start looking around for a way to escape. "The shed?" I suggest, pointing to the building at the end of the pier.

"Fuck that!" says Dan. "A hundred zombies'll break right through that door!"

I grit my teeth, frustrated and helpless. "Then _you_ find something!" I fire a grenade at the oncoming hoard. Blue streams of energy restrain a group of undead townspeople, but others stream around them. I spray automatic fire at the rest, but they keep getting closer, almost to the pier now.

"I found a boat!" Kaiyo shouts. I turn to find her in a wooden rowboat beside the pier, standing over the body of a lone zombie. Another zombie wades over and grabs onto the side of the boat, but Kaiyo casually electrifies the water, frying it. Then she tosses the other zombie's corpse overboard with one hand.

"Fucking brilliant!" Dan jumps into the boat. "Chris, get in!"

I fire one last burst at the on-rushing zombies, then carefully step into the boat. It rocks disconcertingly under my feet, and I bite my lip as I remember that I can't swim. Getting eaten by zombies, however, is a bigger fear than drowning right now. I hunker down in a seat and take a couple shots at the zombies swarming over the pier.

Kaiyo thrusts her hand into the water and a jet of water shoots from her fingertips. The rowboat jerks and leaps away from the pier. Several zombies throw themselves into the water after us, but we leave them quickly behind. Dan falls into the seat nearest the bow while I struggle not to fall out of mine. Soon we're at least fifty yards out, bobbing among the gray waves of the bay. A handful of zombies try to wade in after us, but the rest stay on the shore. At this point none of them seem like a threat, but they've still cut off our retreat.

"Now what?" I ask.

"You've got infinite ammo," Dan says. "Just blast 'em till the fuckers give up and go home."

Kaiyo cocks her head and looks at Dan. "That's a pretty Templar suggestion, coming from an Illuminati," she remarks.

"Hey, it's the best option," says Dan. "The fuckers are undead, so we can forget about waiting them out. That leaves blasting 'em or going around them. I don't want to try circumnavigating this fucked up island in a rowboat with that creepy-as-hell fog out there. Not to mention I'm a lazy fuck and don't want to walk all the way back to Kingsmouth from the other side of the goddamn island if I can help it."

I nod in agreement. "It is the best plan, I just have no idea how long it will take." There's well over a hundred zombies lining the shore right now, plus the Draug. I don't even know if I can keep firing that long, but it's our best bet. I certainly don't want to try sailing around in this rowboat, or being in it any longer than I have to be. I raise my rifle and take careful aim.

I'm about to take my shot when Kaiyo gasps. "Guys! Look behind you!"

I turn to see a pale blue-skinned naked woman apparently walking on the gray surface of the bay. Dark hair, knotted and tangled with seaweed, conceals her face completely—which by itself would be enough to make her look like an apparition out of a horror movie. But even more horrifying is the fact that her stomach is an open cavity with four slimy gray tentacles as thick as her thighs sprouting from it. All four of them curve down around her legs and into the water, moving slowly in tandem, like the legs of an elephant. I realize at once that these are what's actually supporting the Draug-woman above the surface of the bay, that she isn't walking on the water at all.

Suddenly, the Draug-woman stops. One of her tentacles tenses, flexes, and then rears up out of the water, holding a writhing zombie in its coils. Another tentacle rises from the water, its tip surrounded by a sickly green glow. The glowing tentacle thrusts upward, striking like a snake. The zombie is impaled by its tip and utters an inhuman scream while the green glow engulfs its torso. Its stomach bulges out in an unnatural pregnancy and dark spines rip out of its shirt, upward at an angle. In the space of three seconds, the zombie is transformed into a pod carrier, like the one we saw on the beach.

"That was so awesome!" Kaiyo shouts.

"That was so fucked up!" says Dan, repulsed by the scene. I'm inclined to agree with him.

Unfortunately, Kaiyo's shout has drawn the attention of the female Draug. She turns her head toward us and hisses. She lowers the pod-carrier zombie into the bay with one tentacle while raising two more tentacles out of the water and pointing them at us. Green orbs of energy gather at their tips, then she hurls those orbs at our boat. One hits the water a few feet away, sending up a gout of steam. The other hits an oarlock, shattering it like glass.

"Get down!" Dan throws his arm around my shoulder and pulls me down into the bottom of the boat. Two more bolts of green energy rip through the air where we were a second ago. The next volley flies at Kaiyo. She protects herself with a blood shield, but I know she can't keep that up forever.

I prop my rifle up on the edge of the boat and fire a long burst blindly. The recoil makes the gun jump around erratically, but most of the shots go in the general direction of the tentacled Draug witch. There's a pause in her return fire and I look up, wondering if I got her with a lucky shot.

Instead, I see the Draug still standing, holding one hand out in front of herself and using it to project a translucent bubble of green energy around herself. Kaiyo throws a fireball at it, but the flames fizzle harmlessly against the green shield.

"My hammer can get through that, I'm sure!" says Dan. "We need to get closer!"

"On it!" says Kaiyo, dipping a hand into the water and using a jet of spray to propel the boat toward the Draug.

Seeing this, the Draug raises her tentacles again and fires another volley of green orbs. One goes wide, but the other grazes the side of the boat, showering us in splinters.

"Chris! Cover fire!" Dan shouts.

"I don't think it'll work!" I spray a long burst at the Druag, but the _anima_ bullets glance off her shield in a shower of sparks. The Draug witch doesn't even flinch.

"You're a Bee!" says Kaiyo. "Your _anima_ is stronger than her magic. You should be able to punch through that shield with a tightly focused shot!"

Before I can respond, the Draug fires another volley at us. One shot sends up a column of steam and spray just in front of and to the right of the boat. The other punches a hole in the bow and puts a smoldering hole in Dan's coattail.

"Jesus!" Dan swears. "Kaiyo, focus on evasive maneuvers, will you?"

"I'm trying!" the Japanese girl protests.

I have a sudden idea. "Turn right!"

"What?" says Kaiyo.

"Turn right! Just trust me."

The bow vears off to the right, toward the spray explosion from the last volley—moving just in time for the next volley. This time both shots miss, hitting the water to the left of us.

"Left now!" I say. "Chase the spray!"

The boat veers left. The next volley misses, hitting the water to our right. Kaiyo zig-zags after the missed shots, spoiling the Draug brood-witch's attempts to range us in. Meanwhile I pepper the Draug's shield with automatic fire—which only seems to distract it slightly.

Thankfully, it's enough, and soon the rowboat passes within three feet of the Draug brood-witch. Dan stands in the bow and swings his hammer, its head wreathed in blue-green flame. It passes through the Draug's shield as if cutting through empty air and hits her midsection. From where I crouch in the boat, I'm close enough to hear her spine crack. She lets out an unearthly scream, then plunges into the bay and disappears.

The boat stops and spins slowly in the bay. I relax a bit when I don't see the Draug woman again, though I do see more of them scattered around the bay, further from us. Dan seems to relax as well. He smiles at me. "Nice save with the evasive maneuvers, Chris," he says. "Where'd you come up with that?"

"It was something I saw on the History Channel," I say. "My dad watches it. It was something they did in this battle between the Japanese battleships and a bunch of American destroyers, somewhere in the Philippines." I cringe internally at my own vagueness, wishing I could remember more specifics. "The destroyers used it to throw off the Japanese gunners, because no one would shoot at the same point twice if they missed the first time."

"Oh! The Battle off Samar! Of course! My mom was in it, on the Japanese side. She was a thalassamancer, first class, on the _Kong__ō_," says Kaiyo. "You know, that battle would have gone very differently if the lead American destroyer hadn't scored a lucky torpedo hit on the kraken and caused it to frenzy."

I'm honestly not sure how to respond to that, or even if it's true. But before I can think about it, there's another loud foghorn sound from somewhere in the bay. This time it sounds close by and I can tell it's uneven, ragged, somehow animal. I wonder what could be making that noise, but before I can even look around four more green orbs of energy scream past us from the side. I flatten myself in the bottom of the boat and peek out. Two more blue-skinned Draug brood-witches have turned toward us, walking into range. Now they stand twenty yards away, each with a pair of tentacles raised and one hand up, projecting a shield as they fire.

"Fuck me!" Dan says. "I don't think we can get close enough for me to knock out two of the motherfuckers!"

"Maybe we don't have to," says Kaiyo. "Chris, if you focus your _anima—_"

"I already tried shooting at them!" I say.

"But you didn't _really_ focus," says Kaiyo. "You'll have to put all you've got behind each shot if you want to get through those shields, but it _can_ be done!"

Another volley flies at us. A couple of the shots hit the rowboat shattering the wood. One of the hits blows a hole the size of a baseball below the waterline. Kaiyo uses her powers to hold back the flood of water, forming a plug of ice. Still some water trickles in, and she won't be able to stop it forever. _If I don't shoot these Draug brood-witches, they'll sink the boat and we'll drown…well, __**I'll**__ drown!_ I say a quick, earnest prayer, then raise my rifle. I focus all the _anima_ I can into a single shot. I feel the buzzing energy vibrating through the stock, and for a second I swear I can see a faint pattern of blue honeycombs trace down my arm and into the weapon. Then I fire.

The focused _anima_ shot rips through the nearest Draug woman's shield in a bolt of blue light, punching a neat hole through the brood-witch's forehead. She collapses into the bay and vanishes beneath the gray choppy waves.

The second Draug witch turns her attention to me, firing two green orbs my way. Kaiyo sends a jet of water through the hole she's blocking, spinning the boat around. The shots go wide, but she has to immediately go back to trying to form an ice plug to keep the boat from swamping completely.

"Fire another focused shot, Chris!" Dan shouts. "We'll cover for you!" He stands up in front of the boat, completely exposed.

"What are you doing?!" I demand, and try to pull him back down. I may be mad at him, but I don't want him to get killed!

He brushes me off and hefts his hammer. "Don't worry, I've got a plan!"

Kaiyo's face lights up. "Of course! A chaos magic interaction with those green orbs could—"

"Less talking, more plugging, little monster," says Dan, as water sloshes around the soles of his shoes. It's already over the tops of mine. "Chris, babe, concentrate, okay?"

I swallow and nod, raising my rifle and focusing my _anima_ for another shot.

Meanwhile the Draug brood-witch fires another volley. One shot hits the water half a yard away. The other one comes straight at me, but Dan swings his hammer at it like a batter swinging at a baseball. The swing connects, the hammer flashes blue-white, and the green orb of energy rebounds and nearly hits the Draug.

"Fuck, yeah!" Dan shouts. "Come at me, motherfuckin' bitch!"

I smile at his exuberance for a moment before remembering that even professional baseball players hit the ball only about ten percent of the time. I'm unlikely to get another chance at this. I focus my _anima_ till my rifle buzzes. I take aim and fire. The Draug's shield flares green as her head snaps back. She falls beneath the gray chop, dead as a stone.

It's over, and I lower my rifle. Kaiyo finishes making her ice plug and jumps up. "Go Team KCD!" she shouts.

Dan offers me a high five. "Fucking awesome shots!"

In the excitement of the moment, I accept his compliment and the high five. "Nice batting!" I say, forgetting for the moment all the perfectly legitimate reasons I have to hate him.

Then, the boat rocks. We look at each other, but we're all standing still. The waves aren't that bad either. The boat rocks again. I feel power buzzing somewhere below our battered, half-drowned rowboat. There's a low, long foghorn-like roar, very close now, and accompanied by head-sized bubbles just a few yards away. I feel suddenly cold with fear. I can see fear on Dan and Kaiyo's faces as well.

The boat tips hard, nearly throwing me overboard. I land on my knees in the flooded bottom of the boat. A dark blue tentacle as thick as my waist shoots up out of the water. Suction cups the size of dinner plates attach themselves as the huge tentacle wraps around the middle of the rowboat. I struggle to one side, getting out of the way just in time. Two more tentacles grip the boat from either side, fully immobilizing it. Then a massive octopus-like head with glowing fiery orange eyes rises from the waves to the left of the boat.

It stares right at me, eyes burning into my soul. Panic grips me. I scream and fire wildly at the enormous thing. Black blood, like tar, drips out of a dozen bullet holes, but the horrible creature does not even blink.

A leathery pale-blue tentacle the size of a tree trunk shoots out of the water and plucks me out of the rowboat. The wet rubbery mass tightens around my chest, squeezing hard. I can't breathe! The eyes keep staring at me, burning into me. The buzzing is deafening now, and just beyond the edges of it I can hear the drone of deep voices in some dark harmony, whispering things I can't understand—don't _want_ to understand. I try to scream, but there's no air in my lungs!

Kaiyo screams. Thunder crashes, louder than the buzzing or the dark whispers. Lightning explodes a few feet away. The creature recoils. The whispers cut off. The buzzing grows less frantic. Suddenly, I can breathe again. The tentacle has loosened. I claw at it, forcing myself out of its slimy grip. I slide out of the limp, injured tentacle and fall back into the rowboat.

The monster roars and withdraws its injured tentacle. Black viscus blood bubbles from the crater Kaiyo's lightning spell blasted into the pale flesh. As each black bubble pops, it leaves new blue-gray skin behind it. In a matter of seconds, the injured tentacle has completely healed.

Before any of us can react to this, the monster tightens its other tentacles around our boat. The wood splinters, cracks, then the boat is completely crushed. I have a split second to gasp in surprise, then I'm underwater.

I struggle, hands clawing at the water, feet kicking. The icy North Atlantic churns around me. I am blind and deaf. Then I surface for a second. Massive tentacles are closing in all around us. Dan hits one with his hammer, swinging one-handed as he swims. Kaiyo, bleeding from a cut to her forehead, draws her own blood into a scarlet javelin with one hand and uses it to impale another tentacle. I don't have any time to think about defending myself before I a wave knocks me under the water again.

I'm choking. I've breathed in water. I panic, flailing, but water is all around me. I'm drowning! I'm going to die again, and this time I don't know if I'll ever find my way back to my body.

Then something wraps around me, under my arm. _A tentacle!_ I kick and punch. Whatever I hit yields and bubbles float up. Whatever I hit is wearing a shirt. I open my eyes but I can't see anything and the brine stings my eyes. I stop struggling. Then I feel myself rising. Something solid is under my legs. _Sand!_ I crawl forward onto the sandbar. I break the surface, spluttering. I drag myself, prostate, until I'm clear of the water. I collapse onto the wet sand, coughing up lungfulls of water.

When I open my eyes, Dan and Kaiyo are there with me, getting to their feet on the sandbar. Dan is rubbing his shoulder as he looks at me, concerned. Kaiyo is looking out at the bay, and where she looks I see the monster!

I scramble to my feet and grab my rifle (which, incredibly, I still have). The monster is a dozen yards away. It heaves its alien head out of the water. Gills puff out and glow orange as it tilts up its head. The smaller tentacles around its chin part, revealing a glistening black beak. Then it opens its beak and a massive high-pressure jet of water shoots at us.

Kaiyo holds out her hand and projects a blood shield. The water jet hits the shield and immediately begins blasting through. Kaiyo reinforces her shield with thick streams of blood from her forehead and hand. The shield holds, but only barely, and when the water blast stops and the shield collapses, Kaiyo falls to her knees, bleeding and pale.

"Kaiyo!" I shout, rushing toward her. Dan rushes to her side as well. She's breathing, her eyelids fluttering on the edge of consciousness, pale as porcelain from blood-loss, but her cuts have already scabbed over. She'll live—unless the monster kills her and us!

I turn to the monster and level my rifle. It gives a brief foghorn roar, puffing out its glowing gills, as if daring me to do my worst. I glare at it and fire a quick series of explosive shots, hoping to leach _anima_ away from this abomination to heal my friend. But when the rounds explode inside the fleshy mound of the monster's head (which doesn't even make it flinch), the energy I get back is…_tainted_ somehow. I sense the difference immediately, like I'm receiving dirty crude oil instead of spring water. My whole being recoils and I direct the flow of tainted energy away.

Then the monster counterattacks, reaching for us with two massive tentacles, one from each side. Dan beats one back with a hammer blow that nearly severs it (though it immediately starts to heal). I use an _anima_ grenade to scorch the surface of the other. The monster withdraws both tentacles and backs off a few yards. It sinks its bulbous head partway beneath the waves. I can hear loud slurping noises, dragging on impossibly long as it sucks in a staggering volume of water.

"It's sucking up enough water to wash us off the sandbar completely, and drown us," I say.

"Fuck drowning!" says Dan. "The kind of blast that cut through Kaiyo's fucking blood shield could have drilled through solid rock. If it hits us again with that kind of high pressure jet, it'll just slice us in two!" He turns to me. "Heal Kaiyo, quick, while we've got the chance!"

I shake my head. "I just tried! I can't leach healing off of this thing. Whatever it is, it's _anima_ is just…_wrong_. I don't even want to _think_ about what it would do to Kaiyo!"

"Fuck," Dan says. He says it quietly, but I can see the desperation in his eyes as he looks around for a way out. "It can heal, we fucking can't, and the only way off of this sandbar is swimming, which you sure as hell can't do!"

"Sorry," I say. I swallow. I look at the monster, then back to him and Kaiyo. "You should leave," I say. "Take Kaiyo if you can—maybe grab a piece of the boat—and I'll keep the monster occupied. Just leave me!" I feel tears building in my eyes, but I blink them away.

Dan pops his back, then looks me in the eye and says, slowly and clearly, "Fuck. No."

"I…I can't die, remember?" I say, refusing to meet his eyes.

"And can you come back cut in half and underwater?"

I bite my lip. I really don't know, but I'm pretty sure even if I tried, even if I _could_ recover from an injury as extreme as being bisected, I would drown again immediately if my body was out in the bay.

"Can you?" Dan presses.

I give my head a little shake. I keep my eyes on the monster, which is still sucking in water. I feel a tear escape down my cheek and I curse myself for being so emotional. "Just _leave_ me, and save Kaiyo!" I say. "I can't get out of this, but you and she can!"

Dan grabs my shoulder and spins me around. He grabs my chin so I have no choice but to look in his eyes. His eyes seem moist too, as they stare into mine. I wonder if he can make them do that on purpose. "You are fucking crazy, and you've got a goddamn martyr complex, babe, but I am _fucked_ if I let you kill yourself with it!" Before I can say anything or struggle, he lets me go, turns away, and walks to the edge of the sandbar, facing the giant monster, standing between it, me, and Kaiyo. He holds his hammer ready. I piece of the rowboat drifts past a couple yards out, but he ignores it.

I glare at his back. _I swear, if he's trying to impress me or win me over to the Illuminati…_ I wipe my eyes with one sleeve. "Why are you—?" I begin, but before I can finish, a wave of the monster's tentacles catches my eyes. It's not a big motion, but it draws my eye to one large tentacle that it's holding very close, favoring it. The tentacle's surface is still covered in black blood, oozing from a large scorched patch—a scorched patch I gave it! I look closer and notice that all of the bullet holes I've put in its fleshy head still have black blood seeping from them as well. None of them have healed, despite the fact that they're all minuscule compared to the massive injuries Kaiyo and Dan have been inflicting. My shots didn't even seem to slow it down at the time…but they _haven't healed!_

"Why am I what?" Dan asks, an edge of emotion straining his voice.

I ignore his question and point. "Look! It's _bleeding!_ It's _still_ bleeding from where I shot it! Everything else has healed, except the injuries I gave it!" I gasp as I come to the realization. "I can kill it! I'm the _only one_ who can kill it!" I have no idea why that would be, but it doesn't matter. I can kill it and I _must_ kill it…or all three of us are going to die!

Dan looks at me, then at the monster. "Fuck, babe…I think you're right!" He scratches at his beard. "You'll have to hit it with something a fuckton bigger than bullets or that grenade though, or else find a way to get one of your grenades inside it," says Dan. Then his eyes widen as the same idea hits us both at the same time.

"I have to get a grenade down its throat," I say, "while it's trying to blast us."

Dan nods. "If I hit the leading edge of the water jet just right, I could clear the fucking way, give you an opening," says Dan. "You'll have to be fast as hell, though! It'll only be open for a second!"

I raise my rifle and begin focusing my _anima_ into the most powerful grenade I've ever fired. "Let's do this!"

Dan takes up a batter's stance and faces the monster. It raises its head out of the water again, its gills swollen and glowing orange. It's fiery eyes glare at us and the buzzing in my head intensifies as I hear traces of the dark whispering again—but not nearly as intense as before. I block them out and focus on the hidden spot among the shorter tentacles, where the foul creature's mouth lies. As I watch, it tilts its head back and those tentacles part, revealing the four-segmented black beak the size of my head. I adjust my aim.

Then, the monster opens its beak and looses a powerful jet of water at us. Dan swings his hammer. The hammerhead and the jet meet in a blinding blue-white flash! A shockwave travels back up the jet, sending the water spraying back in a high-pressure cone. The shockwave hits the monster's head, knocking it off balance, cracking its beak. The beak is already starting to heal, though. It's still open, the air clear between me and it. I track it with my eyes and fire.

A glowing blue _anima_ grenade—like a small missile—streaks toward its target. The monster closes its massive beak, but my grenade is already inside. I sense it lodging in the creature's gullet, deep in its soft innards. "God, please let this work!" I pray.

The grenade explodes! I hear it as a loud _thump_ even through the massive monsters muffling flesh. Its whole head seems to swell. Its eyes seem ready to explode, then they go dark, then oily black. Thick, chunky black blood spills out of its beak, then floods out of every orifice, even the tiny bullet holes. The creature deflates, covered in its own blood. Then the pale-blue flesh itself begins to melt, turning back to black ooze and joining the streaming blood flowing into the bay. Within seconds nothing remains of the monster but a tar-black stain on the surface of the bay, which—either by random wave action or by some unnatural affinity—is rapidly drawn out to sea, vanishing into the swirling black mass of the evil fog.

We stand in silence, staring after it for a minute. I try to think of something, anything to say. What _can_ you say after barely surviving an encounter with a monster like that? _Good job? Nice swing? Go Team KCD? Take that mother…violator?_ That last one only Dan would say, but his word choice would be different.

Then, before I can say anything, a noise from the shore draws my attention. It's the sound of screams, zombie screams, and the guttural roars of Draug warriors. All along the shoreline I can see them fighting. The zombies are scattering. Some are fighting the Draug, some are fleeing into town, some are rushing headlong into the sea, and a large number of them have just flopped over or are moving aimlessly. The Draug seem to be in chaos too, some fighting the zombies, some fighting each other, and some even trying to smash the pods. _We killed the leader, the lord of the Draug_, I think, _and without their leader they're going crazy!_

Then, there's a sound from somewhere out at sea, deep in the swirling darkness of the unnatural fog. It's the sound of a Draug lord's call, a foghorn roar, so loud and so powerful it's deafening, even though it seems to be coming from much further away. The sound echoes off of the island, reverberating through the bay. At this single call, all activity on the beach stops. The Draug resume their guard stances around the pods. The zombies join them, making a complete undead barrier, sometimes several bodies deep, around each cluster of pods—which, coincidentally, leaves us with an open route back across the pier and up Main Street…a route I really think we should use as soon as possible!

"Let's get the hell out of here," Dan mutters, looking at the fog, in the direction of the unseen and much more powerful new Draug lord.

I immediately nod my head in agreement!

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for your support and your patience through my hiatus! Thanks to you I've been able to come back to this project fresh, and I'm expecting my novel to start into cover design by the new year!

I'm extremely grateful for all your reviews! I will be looking at all of them and doing some revisions of previous chapters, mostly just fixing little errors or typos, nothing extreme, but hopefully something that will improve the quality of what I've written.

This chapter is a little bit of the "Kingsmouth Code" mission (just the first tier, where you follow the manhole covers) and "Draugnet." I wanted to work in the introductory dialogue for "Draugnet" from Deputy Andy and I might still get a chance, but at this point in the story it seemed unnecessary. The characters are already well aware of the Draug pods and already committed to investigating them.

There were some other changes too. The zombie hoard and the foghorn roars were the biggest ones. The zombies were really useful for forcing the characters out to meet the Draug Broodwitches, and the roars were my best idea for establishing that the Draug Lords were (as per the lore) the ones in charge. The bay, also changed in that it is now more than knee deep throughout. Surprisingly the sandbar at the end does have a relation in the game. Where the player fights the Draug Lord, there is a small island, out in the middle of the bay.

Some of the female Draug use shields and I think some don't. I can't recall if Broodwitches do or don't, so I took the liberty of giving them shields. The Draug Lord was a bigger departure. They are supposed to be powerful telepaths, so I tried to communicate that with the effects of the Draug Lord's stare. Per the "Draug Leaders" lore, the Draug Lords are also much closer and purer creatures of the Filth than the other Draug, so a lot of the changes to the Draug Lord aimed at showing that connection, including why the Draug was vulnerable to _anima_ attacks and why its _anima_ could not be used (the Filth is referred to as _anti-anima_). Making it able to heal was just to ramp up the difficulty of the encounter a bit. In the game I found it a fairly easy fight so long as I avoided the water jet cone AoE.

The bit about the Battle off Samar that comes from Chris is true. If I may go on a history nerd rant for a bit, the Battle off Samar is an amazing moment of history and if you're at all interested in such things, I suggest you look up a video documenting it. Briefly, it was a naval battle between the Japanese Center Force-a massive fleet consisting of battleships (including the legendary _Yamato_, the largest battleship ever built in history), battlecruisers (including the _Kongo_) heavy cruisers, and at least 11 destroyers-and the American support-ship group called Taffy Three-consisting of three small escort carriers designed solely as slow, mobile airstrips to support ground operations three destroyers (so-called "tin cans" because their armor was easily penetrated or even _over-penetrated_ by the guns of any other ship, and armed only with torpedoes and five inch guns that could not penetrate the armor of any larger ship) and four destroyer escorts (similar to destroyers, cut smaller and weaker). The fleets came on each other by accident and the Japanese fleet immediately started a pell-mell attack on the incredibly weaker American force. The Americans scrambled to get out of the way, the carriers desperately throwing their ground-attack aircraft against the Japanese battleships as a diversion. In the middle of all this, the captain of the destroyer _USS Johnston_, of his own volition, decided to launch a solo torpedo run on what amounted to the _entire Japanese navy_. He used Chris' spray-chasing technique to get into torpedo range, blew the bow off a heavy cruiser with his torpedo salvo, and then proceeded to take all comers in desperate gun battles, using his ship's tiny 5 inch guns to score hits on the more vulnerable decks and superstructures of the enormous Japanese warships. His attack inspired others and soon the entire destroyer force was launching insanely bold counterattacks on the Japanese fleet, including one moment where the _USS Samuel B Roberts_ (a destroyer escort with just two tiny 5-inch guns-just enough for it to technically _have_ a broadside, pathetic as it was) started a broadside-to-broadside gun battle with the Japanese heavy cruiser _Chikuma_. _Samuel B Roberts_ fired almost her entire supply of ammunition (including star shells, designed only for use as flares, not anti-ship weapons) onto the heavy cruiser's deck, devastating the larger ship, which was unable to hit the destroyer escort because it was too small and too close-their guns would not depress that far. Eventually both the _Johnston_ and the _Samuel B Roberts_ were sunk after taking numerous hits from different ships in the Japanese armada (which, in both cases, included the _Kongo_), but the insane ferocity of their attacks (and those of the aircraft, which continued relentless strafing runs even when out of ammunition) apparently convinced the Japanese admiral that he was fighting a much larger fleet. The Japanese Center Force retreated, never to go out against enemy warships again. Impossibly, the tiny American task group never intended (and certainly not equipped) to fight enemy capital ships had defeated one of the most powerful naval forces in the world.

Anyway, that's why I think it's so awesome. I threw Kaiyo's bit in there just for a little Secret World flavoring to the real WWII history. So far I haven't found much reference to WWII in the game that might reveal what role the various cabals and their agents (and other supernatural forces) may or may not have played. During one of the Templar faction missions your contact (Dame Julia) does mention working on spells and secret missions "during the war" but it's unclear whether she's referring to WWI or WWII. The word _thalassomancer_ is something I made up. _Thalass-_ is Greek for the sea, so a _thalassomancer_ would presumably be a magician whose magic focused on or derived from the sea.

Thanks again for your support and for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it and found it worth the wait!


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